


A Black Flower

by Killing Curse Eyes (The_Mathemagician)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1960s, 1970s, Bullying, F/M, Lily Evans has a twin, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mystery, Or at least I'm trying for some mystery, POV First Person, Reincarnation, Rewrite of an OLD Work, Self-Insert, Summary subject to change, no beta we die like undergrads, things have an explanation I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29450142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mathemagician/pseuds/Killing%20Curse%20Eyes
Summary: She wasn't betting on reincarnation, but that was a reasonable thing to expect after one dies. What wasn't reasonable was being reborn into your favourite book series.Pansy Lee Evans doesn't know how it happened, but it did, and just maybe she'll find out why. But first, she needs to start asking the right questions.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 22
Kudos: 84
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts





	1. 0

**Author's Note:**

> **About The Title:** How often do you see black flowers in nature? Not very often, and even then, they aren't truly black. Black flowers are actually just very dark blue, purple, red, brown, etc. Most often the flowers aren't natural, but the result of careful breeding to get that colour. Due to their rarity, black flowers often symbolize mystery.
> 
> What does this have to do with the title? Well, pansies are one of the flowers that has black variations (though I don't know how natural they are). More than that, Pansy Evans is like a black flower in that she is uncommon, out of place, surrounded in mystery, and perhaps... unnatural.

**A Black Flower**

Prologue

-o-

  
  


I couldn’t say that I always remembered my first life. Nor did all my memories return to me at once. I didn’t remember being reborn like all those fanfics where the protagonist died and then the next thing they knew they were in a warm, cramped space where they floated with limited awareness for an indeterminate amount of time before being squeezed out into the frigid air while they wailed or what not. I didn’t remember anything like that, fortunately.

I would have to say I started remembering things when I was a few months old. This in itself is highly unusual, since I shouldn’t have even developed object permanence yet. The fact that at only a year old, my brain was capable storing twenty-five years of memories and having the cognitive function to match was downright absurd. Yet it did. My hypothesis was that being reborn and my magic allowed my brain to develop at a highly accelerated rate.

However, I was getting off track. By the time I was perhaps a year old, I remembered everything of my first life. Or, well, almost everything. The last thing I could remember was sitting in the front row of my algebra II class waiting for Professor Rozanov to hand back the midterm. I assumed something must have happened after that, but just how much I was uncertain. Perhaps I died shortly afterwards, and it was so traumatic I blocked out the events leading up it. Or perhaps I didn’t actually remember everything and actually lived to the ripe old age of one hundred.

Every now and then, I still wondered about my grade on that midterm. It was incredibly vexing, but I had to come to terms with the fact that I would never know.

I was rambling off track again though. It was a bad habit of mine, if that wasn’t obvious yet.

The point was that by the time I was a year old, my mind was functioning at the same level as it did in my twenties, and that was when I really started paying attention to my surroundings.

Instead of being reborn after my death, chronologically speaking, it seemed that I was reborn decades before the year of my birth from my first life. I thought it was strange, but I couldn’t pretend to understand the hows and whys of reincarnation. I’d always thought that when you died that was it, you’re gone. No afterlife, no reincarnation, nothing. The End. Evidently I was mistaken.

I also noticed I was likely in England, judging by the British accents of the adults that surrounded me. It wasn’t Canada, but at least it was a country whose language I already spoke. I wasn’t sure just what was going on with my brain, and if I lost the childhood ability to pick up new languages... well, supposing I was born in, say, China or Russia, I would have been fucked.

My new name was Pansy. It was the name of a minor antagonist in the Harry Potter series, but I was still pleased with it. If I had to be named for a flower, at least it was my favourite one.

This time around I had two sisters. One was three years older than me, and her name was Petunia. The other was my fraternal twin, and I wasn’t sure which of us was born first yet, as our parents never said it in front of me at that point. My twin’s name was Lily.

For all that I’ve always prided myself on my intelligence, I didn’t realize the implications of that until my new mother walked in on Petunia drawing on the wall. Though, given the absurdity of the situation, I ought to be forgiven for that oversight.

-x-

“Petunia Anne Evans!” My new mother screeched when she walked into my bedroom and saw my four year old sister scribbling on the walls with a bright blue crayon. Petunia turned away from her masterpiece on the wall to face our mother and beamed.

“Look, mummy!” She exclaimed in childish delight. “I drawed a sky for Lily and Pansy!”

I was sitting in a playpen a few feet away, watching my sister deface my bedroom wall, waiting for this exact moment. I’d always found it highly amusing when other people got in trouble. Perhaps it was childish of me to enjoy it when a toddler was the one in trouble, but in all honesty, I was taking my entertainment where I could. It was beyond boring when you could barely control your own body. If I didn’t relish in moments like these, I was sure I’d have gone insane.

Sadly, I didn’t get to enjoy the scolding, because for the first time in this life I had heard my new last name. Evans. My name was Pansy _Evans_. My sisters were Lily and Petunia, by my previous estimation it was maybe the sixties or seventies, we lived in England, and our last name was Evans.

It was at that moment that I came to the conclusion that I was very likely reborn into the world of Harry Potter.

-x-

After this revelation, I was half excited, half freaked out.

Excited because, come on, I was in the Harry Potter world! This was amazing! Though not as ardent in my love of the series as I had been when I was younger, I still held it dear to my heart. In my youth I had been a total Potterhead. I used to watch the movies every few months and periodically reread the books. I kept up with the latest information JKR shared in interviews and online. I even read and wrote Harry Potter fanfiction to my dying day. However, I wasn’t a fan of the Fantastic Beast movies. And if you asked me, the Cursed Child was just a bad fanfic.

So yes, I was excited. But at the same time, how was this even possible? Like, it should literally not be possible. Harry Potter was a story. It was fiction. So what, when you die you’re reborn into a fictional universe? That’s what the afterlife is? Living out your days in your favourite book? Ridiculous. I couldn’t believe that this was typical for a second.

I considered that this may be a dream or hallucination, but quickly dismissed it. While it made sense in an obvious way that something so ridiculous wasn’t really happening, it didn’t make sense when you considered other things. One that stood out to me was the passage of time. Sure, months could pass in a dream. But if I were dreaming, I hardly think I’d remember the passage of time so clearly, and I doubt I’d be dreaming about spending hours upon hours bored out of my mind in a playpen, mentally reviewing definitions and theorems from my classes, or alternatively going over that damn midterm I never got the results of and trying to figure out how I did.

So yes, after pondering my situation, I concluded that it was not a dream. The notion of it being a hallucination was similarly dismissed.

So, assuming everything was real and actually happening... That was great, in theory. Magic and such being real, that is. Except, if this was the Harry Potter world, then unless I somehow managed to change things, my sister was going to die. The magical section of the country was on the brink of war.

Furthermore, who was to say that I was even a witch? Sure, my twin certainly was, but my other sister was just as certainly not. Lily and I may have been twins, but we were not identical. It was very possible the magical gene had passed me over like it did Petunia.

What was the point of being reborn here if I wasn't even a witch? It would be such a disappointment and so unfair. Like, “Oh, Harry Potter is real, by the way, and you’re going to have that shoved in your face, but you’re still a muggle. Have fun with that!”

-x-

I wasn’t going to just wait around until the summer after I turned eleven to find out if I was a witch or not. Perhaps being a child again made me impatient, or perhaps I’d always been. Regardless, I tried to force magic out of myself for ages. I would sit and stare at objects, trying to make them move until my head started pounding. I gave up on that by the time I was two years old. Aside from that, not much happened in the year since I realized where I was.

Being a baby with the mind of an adult did bring some unique opportunities, though. For example, I got to choose what my “first word” would be. It was quite the story, really. As I said before, I needed to take my entertainment where I could get it, and so, with little else to do I selected my first word and waited for the opportunity to say it.

Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she preferred, was the name of my new mother, though I had difficulty thinking of her as such. She was feeding me apple sauce for breakfast, which was my favourite while my new father Richard fed Lily nearby. I had eaten my fill but the bowl was only half empty, so I picked it up and threw it at my father, hitting him hard on the side of the head. I then repeated the word he grunted in a chipper, deceptively innocent manner.

“Fuck!” I giggled, clapping my hands together. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Lizzie set down the spoon she was using to feed me and glared at Richard, who chuckled nervously. The ensuing argument was glorious. Just thinking about it kept me entertained for days.

Wisely, they later told everyone my first was the second word I said to them, which was “no.”

By the time I was two and a half, I was speaking better than five year old Petunia, which led to the Evans concluding that I must be a genius. Obviously, this wasn’t exactly accurate, but it was still great for my ego.

In regards to magic, it eventually occurred to me that according to canon, accidental magic happened when emotions were running high. With this revelation, I resumed my attempts to force out some magic, if I had any. My method was pretty simple, I just put myself into situations that I knew would frustrate me. Sadly, it made little difference, and by the time I was four I had given up on trying to force it out altogether. If I had magic, it would manifest sooner or later. If not, well, it wasn't like there was much I could do about it, was there?

-o-

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:** This is a rewrite of a fic I started back in 2016 and last worked on in 2017. I’ve recently come back to it because I had some new ideas.
> 
> There will be minor changes, but nothing too dramatic, since the plot hasn’t really picked up quite yet. I will detail important changes at the end of each chapter.
> 
> Pansy is obviously a SI, and she is based on me, but there are differences. She is the only character that is based on a specific person, though for many other characters I will be drawing on qualities of people I know and including some references to conversations I've once had.
> 
> She will eventually be paired with an OC.
> 
> Pansy is mentally an adult, so she will not be interested in anyone her own physical age. She’ll prefer someone closer to her mental age. This means the OC will be physically older than her. However, he won’t be attracted to her until she is physically older, and will be made aware of her true age by that point. If this bothers you, turn back now. I am aware that in normal circumstances, i.e. in real life, relationships with such age gaps are creepy and predatory. However this is fiction and circumstances which are not possible IRL mitigate a lot of the issues that come with such a relationship.
> 
> I will move the fic to AO3, and will likely only update new chapters there after a short period of updating one or two new chapters on FFN.
> 
>  **Important changes:** Pansy was a bit older when she died. She has progressed further into her math degree. The last thing she remembers is different.
> 
> The first chapter of part II is almost done. I have about 4.5K words written, and it should be up shortly.


	2. I:I

A Black Flower

Part I

I

-o-

Richard Evans built houses for a living and was a skilled carpenter, while Elizabeth Evans worked as a math teacher at the local secondary school before they started a family. The fact that she was a math teacher delighted me. She may not have been on my level, but it was enough to get me started working up to that point early. So when I was three years old I asked her to teach me math, and she was more than happy to comply.

I think she thought I was just interested in what she did for a living, or wanted to play school, and wasn’t actually interested in math as a subject, but I didn’t particularly care what she thought my motivations were as long as she “taught” me.

I decided not to waste time pretending to have difficulty with basic addition and subtraction. Playing dumb with the basics just meant it would take longer to move on to more advanced topics, and it would already be ages before I could get back to university level mathematics... if I would even be able to find resources for studying at that level as things were. The internet wasn't a thing yet, and wouldn't be for many years.

After a short lesson, Lizzie gave me a worksheet she made up with ten simple problems for me to solve while she did some housework. I doubt she expected me to actually complete the worksheet, so when I went up to her some fifteen minutes later while she was washing dishes from breakfast and lunch she was a bit startled.

“Mum,” I said tugging on her skirt. “I’m done.” I didn’t mention that I’d finished moments after she left. It was already unrealistic that I learned the skills after a single lesson at three years old, there was no need to make it even more unbelievable.

She blinked at me for a moment then smiled warmly. “Is that so, dear? Let mummy finish the dishes and we can go over it together before your nap, okay?”

“M’kay.” I nodded. “I’ll go play with Lily until you’re done.”

“Alright, sweetie. I shouldn’t be long.” she said fondly. I had a feeling she didn’t think I managed to do everything correctly.

I walked through the archway from the kitchen to the living room where Lily was stacking wooden blocks into a tower. I hoped the colourful paint didn’t contain lead or something. When was lead paint banned again? Its dangers were well known by now, at least, so hopefully Lizzie and Richard knew to avoid it.

“What ya got there?” Lily asked, pointing to the worksheet in my hand.

“Mum is teaching me math.” I answered as I plopped down next to her on the floor. “You want help with your tower?”

“Yes please!” My twin beamed, then crossed her arms and pouted. “It falls.”

“Show me.” I told her, and she started stacking the blocks haphazardly. It wasn’t long before her “tower” toppled over.

“Try building it like this.” I took the blocks and made a large, even base, then stacked more on top in similar layers, making a roughly pyramid-like shape. Soon, the blocks were stacked higher than Lily managed. She promptly knocked my tower over.

“My turn! My turn!” she declared, gathering up the fallen blocks. I watched on as she mimicked my method, and built her own tower, even taller than the one she just knocked over.

When Lizzie walked into the room drying her hands on a dish towel, Lily grinned up at her. “Mummy, look at the tower I builded!”

“Oh wow, Lily! You sure _built_ a big tower!” Lizzie praised, emphasizing the correct grammar. “Why don’t you try making it even taller while Pansy and I go over the school work I gave her?”

Lily nodded and refocused on her blocks while Lizzie and I moved to the little pink and purple table Richard had mad for me and my sisters. It was often used for tea parties. I sat on a little purple stool, while Lizzie sat on the floor beside me.

“Let’s see, Pansy Lee.” she said. I put the page in front of her and she pulled a red crayon out of the box sitting on the table. She quickly went through it, marking each answer with an exaggerated red check mark.

“Well done!” she smiled proudly at me once she finished. “You got them all right!”

“Of course I did,” I bragged. “It was super easy. You should teach me harder math. After nap time, though.”

My new mother chuckled and agreed before sending me up to the room I shared with Lily to nap while she worked on convincing Lily to do the same.

I had to say, scheduled nap time is probably one of the best parts about being a kid again.

-x-

One of the worst parts about being a kid again was the lack of autonomy. I had little control over where I went and when. For the most part, it was fine. I didn’t have anywhere I wanted to go. However... there were places I did not want to go. As child I had little say in the matter though, so I had to resort to childish tactics to get my way.

I wasn’t just doing it because I didn’t feel like going somewhere though. I only acted out when I genuinely was vehemently opposed to our destination.

You see, Lizzie was very religious. Richard was religious too, but not quite to the same extent. As such, they went to church each Sunday. However I retained my very strong moral oppositions to organized religion from my previous life.

I hated it. I felt that it was morally wrong to indoctrinate young children and that religion was just a tool used to justify horrible atrocities. I held nothing against religious people themselves. You know, don’t hate the player, hate the game. But I refused to bow and play the game myself.

I remembered the first time I was aware enough to realize where they were taking me I started wailing and screaming. I was still a baby, not even speaking quite yet, so that was all I could do in protest.

To be honest it was actually kind of fun. Lizzie would have to take me outside so I didn’t disturb the sermon, and then I would stop crying. She’d get this really relieved look on her face and bring me back inside. Except as soon as she stepped back in the church, I’d start up again.

Even as a baby, I could tell Lizzie and Richard were confused. For the most part when I was a baby I didn’t cry, so my behaviour was truly out of the ordinary. They tried bringing me to church a few more times after that, but eventually gave up once they realized that no matter what they did, I would scream my little lungs out so long as I was inside a church.

Once Richard even joked that I must have been touched by the devil and couldn’t stand being in such a holy place. Lizzie didn’t find his joke particularly amusing, but I did.

Anyways, so for the next few years Richard would stay home with me while Lizzie took my sisters to church. But by the time I was three and had shown that I was more mature, they decided it was time to take me back.

The Sunday they decided to take me to church again started a bit differently than I was used to, so I knew right away something was up, but not what. Instead of letting me sleep in, I was woken with Lily and made to get dressed.

I was a bit fuzzy in the mornings, so it took me a bit to catch on, and when I did, I threw a temper tantrum. I refused to leave the house, but Lizzie just picked me up and put me in the car. When Richard parked in the church’s parking long I refused to get out, but yet again my small stature worked against me and I was carried into the church against my protestations.

I did my best to squirm out of his hold, but he was too strong, his grip too tight. I decided to resort to drastic measures.

“If you don’t take me home right now, I’ll scream.” I threatened as Richard entered the church.

“Pansy, can’t you just behave? Please?” he pleaded with me. “Why are you do against going to church? You haven’t even tried it.”

I glared at him, refusing to answer. It wasn’t like I could explain to him that I have strong moral oppositions to religion. I was barely three years old. Regardless of my supposed genius, this was not something someone of my apparent age would form an opinion on, especially when not exposed to any material that would help me formulate such opinions.

He sighed in response to my silence, and continued onward.

“Last chance.” I cautioned. He ignored me and kept walking.

“Fine.” I bit out. I took a deep breath, looked him dead in the eye, and screamed as loud as my little lungs let me.

People whipped around to look at Richard and me. He tried to hush me, but I just kept screaming.

Abruptly, I was removed from his arms. “Watch Lily and Petunia.” I heard Lizzie say over my screams. She carried me out to the church’s front lawn, setting me down on a bench while she loomed over me. I stopped screaming.

“Pansy, this type of behaviour is not acceptable. You know better than this.” she reprimanded me.

“If you don’t bring me here then I won’t act this way.” I huffed, crossing my arms and raising my chin.

She looked up at the overcast sky, sighed, and ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Lord help me...” she muttered and took a deep breath.

Her stern gaze returned to me, and with it came a threat. “Pansy Lee Evans, if you don’t get inside that church and sit quietly by my side for the entire time you will be sent to your room as soon as we get home and there will be no dessert tonight!”

“Kay.” I said.

Lizzie sighed again, this time in relief, and held her hand out to me. “Come along then, in we go.”

I shook my head. “No. I mean I’ll go to my room and have no dessert.”

Lizzie took another deep breath. “Fine,” she said. “Then the two of us will sit in the car until the sermon is over. You will sit still and keep quiet. Is that understood, young lady?”

“Kay.” I consented. That was perfectly fine by me.

-x-

From then on, going to church became the biggest conflict between me and my new parents. Well, it was mostly between Lizzie and me. Richard seemed to accept my decision a bit more. I think he was secretly a bit glad, actually, since that meant he usually stayed home with me on Sunday mornings.

Those mornings became _our_ time, and to be honest I grew quite find of Richard, sometimes even thinking of him as “dad.”

I never thought of Lizzie as “mom” though. I just couldn’t. With Richard it was easier, since in my old life I had an absentee father. But my real mom and I were really close, and I just can’t think of anyone else as my mom. My first mom, my real mom, went through hell and back for me. She supported me when no one else would. She accepted me no matter what.

Lizzie is great, really, but I just can’t think of her as a mom. I call her that out loud of course, but in my heart she has no right to the title from me. Still, she was special to me.

-x-

I was almost five years old when it happened. I’d only give up trying a few months prior.

As was becoming usual for me, I was beyond bored. Lily was fast asleep, and I, too, was supposed to be napping, but for once I just didn’t feel like it. I just wasn’t tired. Richard was working and Lizzie was downstairs watching TV, so I felt it was safe to sneak into their bedroom and grab the pre-calculus textbook I’d seen on the bookshelf in there.

Unfortunately, the bookcase was tall and the book I wanted was on the top shelf, which was well beyond my limited reach. I wasn’t to be deterred though, and opted to climb up the shelf.

I made it up just fine, but after grabbing the book my clumsiness kicked in and I lost my balance. When I felt myself start to fall backwards, I clutched the book to my chest and closed my eyes, bracing myself for the impact.

The impact never came.

After a few moments of confusion I opened my eyes and looked from side to side. I was floating half a metre above the ground.

I was a witch.

-x-

After doing magic for the first time, accidental magic came more frequently, and from there I learned to call upon it at will.

It was far from easy at first. It took me a long time to summon it up on demand. Part of it was figuring out how it felt to use magic. I honestly can’t explain the sensation very well, but it was definitely a rush, and to tell the truth, it was slightly addictive. The more I used magic, the more I wanted to use it. I just couldn’t get enough.

At first, even being able to call on my magic, I couldn’t control what it did when I called on it. It tended to do its own thing. Mostly it liked to levitate nearby objects. Obviously, I was going to kick ass at wingardium leviosa.

I decided to refine the floating thing. I first worked on letting go of a single object, but not the others. Sometimes I dropped more than one at a time or the wrong one, but with practice I got there. After I was able to do that perfectly, I switched to levitating only a single object from the beginning. That was actually a lot harder.

It was hard to explain why it worked like that. But imagine you have a large bucket of water, one so tall that you couldn’t just reach into it and touch the water, and so heavy it was hard to move it. Now imagine you were pouring it into a smaller bucket. At first you didn’t have much control over pouring the big bucket because you weren’t very strong, so the water just flowed without much direction. But after it has settled in the smaller bucket you could take a bit of water into your hands and do whatever with it. Then you could take more and do whatever with that, too. That was how letting my magic out and then dropping things until only a single object was left levitating worked.

But then you got stronger and grew taller, and you didn’t need to pour the water into a more accessible container anymore. You could get it directly from the tall, heavy bucket without spilling it. It was hard. But eventually you got strong enough until you could poor out small portions and do with then whatever you pleased.

That was the best I could describe it.

It would take me two years years to be able to levitate things with any precision, and then I would move on to manipulating the movements of objects in other ways.

Once I mastered levitation, it wouldn’t be long before I was opening and closing doors without touching them and making my stuffed toys and dolls walk around the room.

-x-

I did this all in the privacy of my new bedroom in the basement. After my first bout of accidental magic, I realized I needed privacy to practice. However, privacy was hard to come by when I shared a bedroom with Lily. Sure, Lily was a witch too, but she didn’t know that and I didn’t want to explain it all to her. I also doubted her ability to keep her mouth shut and not go running to our parents about it in her excitement.

So one day I innocently brought up the topic of wanting my own room. I knew why Lily and I shared—there were only three bedrooms. However, we had a basement. It was unfinished, but Richard built houses for a living. He could most definitely put up a couple walls in the basement, and I was pretty sure there was enough money to renovate it. The basement wasn’t used for anything besides storage, really, and even then there was plenty of space for a bedroom or two.

“Mum, dad, why does Petunia have her own room, but Lily and I have to share?” I asked with as much innocence as I could muster, staring up at Lizzie and Richard with wide eyes.

They glanced at each other, a “oh boy I wasn’t expecting this for awhile, who’s answering?” look exchanged between them.

Lizzie bravely was the one to answer. “Because there are only three bedrooms in the house, sweetie.”

“Can’t dad make another one then?” I pushed. “He builds houses for a living, so he knows how to do that, right?”

Lizzie opened her mouth, then closed it. A few seconds passed. “Yes, well... Richard?”

I fought back a giggle. Throwing your husband under the bus, Lizzie? Weren’t you nice.

Richard coughed and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Why don’t you let mummy and I talk about it?”

A month later, Richard started on finishing the basement, including a bedroom for me and a guest room as well.

-x-

My new bedroom was finished by the time I started school when Lily and I were five.

By that time, my math lessons with Lizzie had moved on to basic algebra, which was exciting because it meant I was officially getting closer to high school level math. High school math was still small potatoes, but it didn't feel trivial the way grade school math did. 

Listening to my new parents talk, I learned that originally Lizzie planned to return to work after Lily and I started primary school, but that didn’t happen.

To them, it looked like I was a super genius. And while I wasn’t actually a genius, I was the only one who knew that. Sure, I was definitely above average, perhaps even well above average, but I was never quite a genius, much to my own disappointment.

So Lizzie did not go back to work as soon as Lily and I started school. After much discussion, she and Richard decided to see how I handled school first before making a final decision.

Of course, I handled it terribly to absolutely no one's surprise.

I was there for a little over a month, and I could still remember it all vividly. The first day stood out to me in particular.

Lizzie dressed Lily and me in matching dresses. Lily’s was a pretty mint green and mine was baby blue. Lizzie did our hair in pigtails, tied with ribbons to match our dresses at the ends. She spent ages taking pictures of us in front of the house with our school bags before she finally drove Petunia and us to school.

After speaking with our teacher and kissing us goodbye, she left.

It was horrible. When Lily and I told the other children we were twins, they called us liars because we didn’t look alike, what with her flaming red hair and my own blonde locks, amongst our many other differences. I explained to them that not all twins looked alike, but they didn’t believe me.

I forgot how stupid kids were. It brought back memories of my first life. For example, once I tried to explain to a girl that pounds and kilograms were not the same unit of measurement and that sixty pounds was actually less than forty kilograms, you dumb fuck. Well, alright, I didn’t actually call the girl a dumb fuck, but the sentiment was certainly there. Had I actually known the term dumb fuck at that time, I was sure I would have used it.

Things didn’t get much better from there. The other children thought I was a freak because of how well spoken I was and because I had a funny accent. To be fair, that probably wasn’t the only reason. Children are dumb, but they aren’t stupid. It was obvious I was very different from the rest of them, even if they didn’t know what exactly it was about me that was off. Still, it didn’t stop at being awful with the children. The teacher who reminded me of Umbridge because of her horrible pink outfit, despite her more pleasant demeanour, read us a boring, pointless story, made us do simple, stupid crafts, and forced us to play “get to know each other” games.

It only got worse as time went on. Since I was a freak, the other kids didn’t want to play with me. This would have been fine, if they all left me alone instead of teasing me. It wasn’t like I wanted to play with them either. Some didn’t tease me, mostly a couple girls that Lily got along with. She was hesitant to make friends with them because they still didn’t like me, but I told her I didn’t mind, and off she went, the little social butterfly.

I didn’t actually mind the teasing. I’d dealt with worse in my first life, and I hardly cared what a bunch of snot nosed brats thought. But I knew my parents were considering home schooling me, which sounded infinitely better than _this_ , so I pretended to be upset about it.

After what felt like ages of the torture that was called primary school, my parents pulled me aside and offered to home school me.

“Lily, Petunia,” Richard said one evening. “Why don’t you girls go play in the back yard? Your mum and I need to speak with Pansy.”

My sisters looked at each other, nodded, and left without protest, leaving my new parents alone with me in the living room.

“What is it?” I set the book I was reading down on the floor beside me. I didn’t bother using a bookmark. I never did in my previous life, and it was always easy enough to find my spot without one, even in long books. The book I was reading was Prince Caspian, from the Chronicles of Narnia. I didn’t read it in my previous life, so it was something new. I wasn’t exactly a fan, but it was one of the few books in the house that wasn’t so far below me it was a bore or one that I was deemed too young to read.

“What do you think of school so far, Pansy?” Richard asked me.

“Haven’t I already made that clear?” I scrunched up my face. I always made sure to tell them how I felt about school.

“Yes honey, but please humour us.” Lizzie said. She patted the space on the couch between her and her husband. “Come, sit with us.”

I huffed dramatically, but complied without any real complaint. “I hate school. It’s boring. The kids are stupid and mean. They think I’m weird because I’m smarter than they are. They don’t want to include me when they play, and their games aren’t fun anyways. I haven’t learned anything at all. The teacher goes over material I learned ages ago in a patronizing way and doesn’t do anything about the other kids being mean to me.”

Richard and Lizzie exchanged a resigned look, as if this was the answer they were expecting. As they should have, because this wasn’t anything I hadn’t complained about before.

“How would you feel about your mother home schooling you?” Richard smiled at me gently. “We’ve been considering it since we realized how advanced you are, but we wanted to give you a chance to go to school and socialize with children other than your sisters. We thought you might have trouble connecting with them, but we wanted to give you the chance.”

“Obviously you don’t do well with other children, in an academic environment at least.” Lizzie added. “We don’t want you do be socially isolated though, so if you do want to be home schooled, we want you do choose an activity that will get you out of the house and around other children. So what do you think, honey?”

“You mean it? You'll home school me?”

“If that's what you want.” Richard ruffled my hair. I scowled and swatted his hand away.

“Yes! Yes, I want!” I beamed. “This is gonna be wicked awesome!”

My new parents chuckled and wrapped up the conversation, telling me the next day Lizzie would give me a list of activities that I could choose from, and then I'd have a week to pick one or two of them.

I thanked them profusely, giving them both a hug and a kiss, which was unusual for me, as I wasn't very affectionate with them.

No more primary school. I was beyond pleased.

-x-

I chose dancing as my extracurricular activity. Ballet, specifically. In my first life I'd taken lessons as a child, but stopped because three of the girls from school who bullied me signed up too. When I got older I regretted giving it up, but wouldn't take back the decision to get away from those girls. I hated them, even in this new life. Another reason I chose it was because I wouldn't have to really talk to other kids much, just dance with them.

When Petunia found out I would be taking ballet lessons, she asked to take them too. Lizzie and Richard were happy to sign her up as well, and dancing became our thing.

Despite what I remembered of ballet from before, Petunia was a much better dancer than me. She was as graceful as a swan, while I had to work hard to overcome my natural clumsiness. I wasn't bad for a kid, but to be on Petunia's level I would have to practice at least three hours for every hour she did, and she danced at least two hours every day.

I was glad she was better than me though. While she didn't hate me for my intelligence, I could tell she felt inferior and jealous, despite being slightly ahead of her peers in school.

Dancing also gave my older sister an appreciation for music. It wasn't long before she begged our mum to sign her up for music lessons. She chose the flute, and after a year of lessons she was playing it beautifully.

Petunia told me that she felt music was her calling. She tried to teach me to read music, but I just couldn't make much sense of it, while for her it was more natural than reading a book. Not that she needed to read music very often. Petunia possessed the ability to just listen to a melody once or twice and then play it herself.

I was happy for her. Petunia needed this. In canon she probably didn't find music and dance, leaving her feeling like she was just average at everything while Lily was special.

-x-

Whenever the weather permitted, Lizzie would take me to the nearby park for an hour each day. She said it was because I needed to get out and play and be active. It was basically my recess.

The park was usually occupied by a few children too young for school and their parents. I was almost always the only school aged one there, but I didn't mind.

For the most part I didn't want to bother with children my age. Lily and Petunia were the only exceptions, and that was because they were my sisters.

At the park I usually went on the swings, but sometimes Lizzie would bring a ball and we'd play catch together.

When I was seven I saw Severus Snape.

Lizzie and I were playing catch when I noticed a young boy, a few years older than most of other children in the park during school hours. I took in his black hair, skinny frame and ill fitting clothes and concluded that it was likely that this boy was Snape.

Pain hit me like train. Or rather, the ball my mother threw to me did.

“Fuck!” I hissed, holding my hands to my nose. I took one away briefly to check for blood, but fortunately there was none.

“Language!” Lizzie snapped, but her features softened into an apologetic grimace. “I'm so sorry, Pansy! Are you alright?”

She pried my hands off my nose and gently tilted my face to get a better look at it. My face flushed and I slapped her hands away. “Mum! I'm fine.”

“Maybe we should go back home...” she said.

“No!” I blurted. “I saw a kid my age. I want to try and play with him. Please don't make me leave!”

“Are you sure, love? You're hurt...” Lizzie looked torn. I was hurt, though not badly, but I was showing interest in socializing with another child. I never showed interest in playing with kids who weren't my sisters. I was surprised she wasn't suspicious of my sudden interest. Then again, what hidden motive would she think I had? To her knowledge, there was nothing special about Snape.

“I told you, I'm fine.” I rolled my eyes. “It doesn't even hurt much now. And he looks lonely and I never see kids my age at the park when it's school hours.”

“Well, I suppose you can stay for a bit.” Lizzie caved. “But if I notice your nose bothering you we're leaving!”

“Deal!” I grinned at her. I picked up the ball from the ground a few feet away from me. It was a red rubber ball, slightly smaller than a basketball. Easy to catch and throw for the most part. I ran with it over to the sandbox where Snape was playing.

“Hi!” I chirped. “I'm Pansy. I don't usually see other kids my age here. I'm seven, what about you? Are you home schooled too?”

“I'm Severus.” Snape glanced to the side and briefly bit his lip. “I am. Home schooled, I mean. And seven, too.”

“Cool!” I gestured to the ball in my arm. “Do you want to play catch with me? I usually just play with my mum 'cause everyone else here during the day is little, so it'd be nice to play with someone my age. Mum and Dad think I need to.”

Snape looked at me for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if I genuinely wanted to play with him, or if I was just being nice so he wouldn't expect it when I did something mean later on. Eventually, he nodded. “Alright. I'm not very good though.”

“That's okay. I'm not the best either, and I'm only decent because I play enough.” I assured Snape. It was hard to imagine him as the mean, snarky, ill tempered potions master he was in the books. He was so small and uncertain and _cute_. 

“C'mon.” I ran away from the sandbox, looking over my shoulder to make sure Snape was following me. “Stop there!” I ordered once he was a few metres away from where I was standing. “You ready?”

Snape nodded and I threw the ball. It flew passed him, a little to his right. Unsurprisingly, he didn't manage to catch it.

As we played I used my magic to make sure I always caught the ball while deliberately making it difficult for him to catch. My plan was to either get him frustrated enough to use magic or to purposely throw the ball in a way that made it obvious I was using magic to catch it.

“I'm sorry!” I said after awhile. “I have horrible aim...”

“It's fine.” Snape said tightly and I could tell he was getting frustrated, but didn't want to stop. Probably because he didn't want to scare me off. He threw the ball at me, and I used my magic to guide the ball into hands.

“At least you have good aim!” I complimented, but he just scowled. I tossed the ball in his general direction. It went way higher and more to the side than I planned, but to my delight Snape caught it.

Before the ball could pass him by, it jerked down and towards Snape, landing in his hands. He blinked, confused for a moment. Fear graced his features as he realized what he'd just done.

“I-I have to go!” he dropped the ball and started backing away.

“Wait!” I cried. “Don't go! I can do that too! Watch!”

Snape froze, looking at me carefully. I just smiled and used my magic to lift the ball from the ground and float it into my hands.

“See? Isn't that wicked?” I boasted, bouncing over to him.

“Y-you're a witch!” Snape stuttered in surprise,

I frowned and recoiled a bit. “That's a mean thing to say!”

“No! No, it just means you can do magic!” he raised his hands in protest. “My mum's a witch too! And I'm a wizard.”

“Really? You're not just saying that because you called me names? If I ask her she'll say the same thing?” I crossed my arms and looked at him through lowered lids. I was getting pretty good at this acting thing.

“She will! I promise!” he assured me. “She'll be here to pick me up soon. I'll introduce you.”

“Well, alright. But if you're lying I'll tell my mum you were mean to me.” I threatened.

“I'm not!”

“Yeah, okay. Do you want to swing with me until your mum gets here?” I offered.

He nodded eagerly, so I brought the ball back to my mum who was sitting on a bench and reading a book. She looked up and smiled when I dropped the ball by her. I think she was going to say something, but I was running off to the swings where Snape was waiting for me.

It wasn't long before Eileen Snape arrived to pick up her son. When he saw his mother, Snape dug his heels into the sand to stop the swing. “That's my mum. Come on.”

I wasn't swinging very high, so I jumped off and followed him over to the older witch. The resemblance to her son was strong, but her features seemed more delicate than his.

“Did you make a friend, Severus?” She smiled at her son when we approached.

“This is Pansy, mum!” Snape gestured to me, beaming at his mother. He was so cute! “She's a muggleborn!”

Eileen glanced at me. “Is that so, Sev? What makes you think that?”

“I saw her do magic, mum!” Severus went on to explain what happened, while I stood slightly behind him, biting my lip and wringing my hands. I was a bit nervous. Eileen was a character canon didn't really go into detail about. I think she was only briefly mentioned in the sixth book as president of the gobstones club. I didn’t remember if she showed up in the memories Snape shared with Harry.

“You can control it?” She asked sharply, her gaze snapping to me.

“Yes, ma'am. A little bit.” I admitted.

“Demonstrate.” She ordered me, eliciting a shriek of “mum!” from her son.

I nodded and bent down to pick up a pebble from the ground. I held it in an open palm, and used my magic to lift it a few inches in the air.

“Interesting. How old are you, child?” Eileen's features softened now that she was sure I could use magic. Her gaze was still assessing, but it wasn't as cold.

“Seven, ma'am.” I answered.

“Severus' age then.”

I nodded in confirmation. “Are you really a witch?”

Eileen smiled. “I am. My name is Eileen Snape.”

“Pansy Evans. It's nice to meet you.” I introduced myself to her, sticking out my hand for her to shake.

“The pleasure is mine.” She gently took my hand and shook it. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone about magic and being a witch, okay?”

“What about my family?” I asked.

“Not yet. When you're eleven you'll be invited to a magic school, and you can tell them then.” she replied.

“Why can't I say anything before that?”

“Because magic is a secret. Only people with magic are allowed to know. We can only tell muggles—people without magic—when it's necessary for them to know.”

“And it's not necessary for my family to know?” I inquired, tilting my head to the side.

“Not quite yet. Do you promise to keep the secret?”

“I promise.” I said solemnly.

After promising to keep magic to myself, Eileen wanted to meet Lizzie. The introduction went smoothly and they even exchanged phone numbers and addresses. There was talk of arranging play dates in the future, and I was ecstatic. This was my in to the wizarding world early.

I smiled the whole way home, and so did Lizzie. I could tell she was happy that I finally showed interest in spending time with children other than my sisters.

-x-

Our first play date was on a Saturday about a week later at Snape's house. As we walked to Spinner's End the houses gradually grew less and less well maintained. The paint on the houses was chipped and faded, and some of the numbers were crooked. Almost nobody had flowers planted despite it being mid-June. It wasn't a rough neighbourhood though, just a poorer one.

When we reached the address Eileen gave us I was surprised to note it was one of the better maintained houses in Spinner's End, even sporting a few healthy flowers in pots on the porch.

Lizzie knocked on the door and we waited. Not even a minute later Eileen opened the door and ushered us inside.

She led us down the hall and into the kitchen, where Snape was putting a kettle on the stove, probably for tea.

“I thought we could have some tea while the children play.” Eileen said to Lizzie, gesturing to the small dinner table with biscuits and two teacups set on it. “Go ahead and sit.”

“That would be lovely, Eileen.” Lizzie smiled and took a seat at the table.

“Thank you for putting the kettle on Severus. Why don't you show Pansy your room?” Eileen suggested.

“Sure.” Snape agreed. “It's this way.”

He grabbed my hand and led me up a narrow staircase. At the top was a hallway with three doors. “The one at the end is Mum's room. On the right is the loo, and this one is mine.”

He pushed open the left door and led me inside.

“I like your room.” I said after looking around a bit, and I meant it.

It was small, but clean. A twin sized bed sat in one corner, covered with a green and silver quilt. A night table sat next to the bed, a small pile of books on top. There was a small dresser in another corner, and next to it was a bookshelf with books stuffed into every nook and cranny. I spotted a battered copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard and several potions related books.

“Thanks.” he blushed. What a cutie. Who would have thought child-Snape was so adorable? “Do you want to play a game?”

“Sure. Like what?” I asked.

“Do you know how to play chess?”

“I know the basics.” I nodded. “Do you have a set?”

“Yeah, hold on. I keep it under my bed.” Snape bent down and pushed up the quilt on his bed a bit, revealing wooden box with light and dark brown squares checkering the top.

He pulled it out and set it in the middle of the floor. I sat down across from him as he took off the lid.

“Light or dark?” he asked, holding a smaller, lidless box containing light brown chessmen.

“Dark.” He set the box he was holding down and handed me the other one. He put the top back on the box and we started setting up the pieces.

“Oi! That's my spot! Not the queen's!” the king said suddenly and I nearly dropped it in surprise.

“Sorry, I forgot to mention they can talk and move a bit.” Snape apologized, but I waved him off and moved the queen into the proper place and placed the king where the queen had been before.

“It's fine, let's play.”

We played three games and I lost them all. I knew I wasn't the best at chess, but losing to a seven year old repeatedly was humiliating. It wasn't even a close game. He slaughtered me.

In my defence, finding out Tobias Snape died three years ago made it difficult to concentrate.

-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:** Some parts are completely rewritten, others are copy and pasted with minor changes.
> 
> I know very little about schooling in the UK in the 1960s, so I’m keeping it vague. Any inconsistencies can be blamed on the HP-verse being different than the real world.
> 
>  **Important Changes:** nothing major, I moved some scenes from the next chapter to this one and reordered others to make it in chronological order.


	3. I:II

A Black Flower

Part I

II

-o-

It may not sound like a big deal, but finding out Tobias Snape died in an accident at the mill was actually very significant. Up until I learned this, I just assumed that aside from my existence this world followed the Harry Potter canon. I assumed that _I_ was the first divergence from canon. Perhaps that sounded a bit arrogant, but could you blame me? What else was I supposed to think? I’d read plenty of fanfiction in my first life, and usually the self-insert or original character was the source of all the deviations from canon.

However this world was very clearly not “canon but with Pansy added in.” And that changed _everything_ I thought I knew. It meant I had no clue what was going on. Perhaps it just meant Tobias Snape was dead and there were small, insignificant changes like that, things that didn’t matter too much to the plot. On the other hand, it could also mean someone like Dumbledore died early too.

I really needed to find out what the hell was going on here.

Fortunately, Eileen was more than happy to have me over to Spinner’s End and teach me all about the wizarding world.

I went to the Snapes’ home every weekend and also for an evening or two during the week. Eileen Snape became “Auntie” and Severus and I grew to be inseparable. I learned a lot of little things about the world from Severus. He taught me things like magical games and told me stories about Hogwarts. On Saturdays Auntie would give us lessons. Sometimes she taught us history, other times she taught us little tidbits of magical theory. I absorbed all of it like a dried out sponge.

The walls of their sitting room were lined floor to ceiling with numerous bookshelves, and Severus and I were free to read any of the books contained therein, since Auntie kept all the dangerous books in her bedroom. She would even let me take a book or two home with me as long as I asked her to disguise it first.

Eileen was a bibliophile, and without her husband around to complain, she was free to spend the money she earned brewing and doing odd jobs on books of all sorts of topics.

Severus was fascinated by potions and defensive magic, and so those texts were his favourites. I was interested in magical subjects too, but I spent more time researching the drier topics. I read through history and law books like they were The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Admittedly, I wasn’t particularly interested in the subjects for the sake of knowledge alone, but I was desperate to know what was going on in this world.

I learned many things in my perusal. The good news was that Dumbledore was alive and well. He also did not join his evil boyfriend in taking over the world, which was another potential disaster that crossed my mind. Many of the feats he was credited with in canon seemed to be accredited to him here, too. He was still headmaster of Hogwarts, he still defeated his evil boyfriend, he was still known for his work with dragon’s blood, and he was still Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Aside from facts about Dumbledore, however, I didn’t know much about the history of canon to spot that many differences, as most of my knowledge had to do with the near future and beyond. Perhaps I should have watched the Fantastic Beasts movies, after all.

Aside from the Dumbledore stuff, I didn’t learn much else of significance from the history books. Instead, the most important revelation came from a book about modern wizarding law that was published in 1965.

What I learned was this: In 1949 Albus Dumbledore introduced a new law to with Wizengamot. This new law was commonly referred to as “Riddle’s Law.” It stated that should any underage witch or wizard who has muggle guardians express fear for their safety, then the Ministry of Magic must investigate their living situation, and if the situation is deemed unsafe by a ministry official, they are to be removed and alternative living arrangements must be made.

The history behind it was most enlightening.

In December of 1940 the headmaster of Hogwarts, who was _not_ Armando Dippet, sent all of the students home for the holidays for an unknown reason. Tom Marvolo Riddle and two other muggleborn students died in The Blitz. Riddle had expressed concern about returning to the orphanage, but his concerns were ignored by the headmaster.

Despite it being the headmaster at the time who made the call, Dumbledore felt guilty, and so he eventually proposed Riddle’s Law. There weren’t many supporters for it in the beginning, as the law mostly held significance to muggleborns. Opinions changed, however, when Tom Riddle’s heritage was revealed and the law was eventually passed and put into effect by 1953.

He may have been my favourite character, but discovering that Voldemort had died decades ago, and years before he managed to make his first horcrux, was a huge relief. I didn’t have to worry about living through a civil war or about my sister being murdered before she turned twenty-two. Even in my first life I outlived the Lily Evans of canon.

The downside was that this also meant that nearly everything I remembered from canon was completely useless to me. I had spent so much time thinking I knew the future, but the truth of the matter was that I knew nothing of what was to come. It was terrifying to go from knowing everything to knowing nothing. I didn’t like it.

-x-

Of the changes that I was responsible for, one that completely boggled my mind was that Severus had no interest in my twin sister whatsoever. In the books from my first life he did everything for Lily. He lived and died for her memory. He turned spy for her, he protected her son, even though he hated the boy. Now she was just his best friend’s sister with mean friends. That wasn’t to say _Lily_ was mean to him. She wasn’t. Really, she was nice enough to him, polite but distant. But I overheard her friends making fun of him more than once, and each time she just let them. She never stood up for him or told them to stop. It irritated me, but I knew Lily didn’t want to lose her friends. I couldn’t blame her completely. For the most part they didn’t say anything to Severus’ face and they had been good friends to her.

Perhaps it was because Severus’ home life was so different from canon and he met me instead of my sister that he didn’t need her the same way. I had to admit though, the Snily shipper in me was devastated that I ruined my OTP, but I couldn’t force them to be friends and fall in love.

Even more bizarre than the lack of Snily friendship though, was that Severus and Petunia actually got along better than he and Lily. My best guess at explaining that phenomenon was based on a few key points.

First, Petunia found something she excelled at, so she didn’t have the same inferiority complex as her counterpart in canon. Secondly, she didn’t know about magic yet, so she couldn’t be jealous of it. On top of that, most of her friends are the girls she met through her dance classes or music lessons, so she was likely influenced by different friends than canon Petunia was. Finally, I was fairly certain the reputation of the Snape family wasn’t as bad as it was in canon.

Auntie used magic freely at home, so broken things got repaired and cleaning was hardly a chore for her. As a result, the house and yard looked much nicer than I imagined it would otherwise. Simple things like the appearance of your home could make a big difference in how people perceived you. So did being a widow with a child. Losing her husband to an accident at the mill and raising a young son all by herself garnered sympathy from the townsfolk.

I wouldn’t say Petunia and Severus were actually friends, really. She had never been to his house, but when he came over to our place my older sister was more likely to spend time playing with us than my twin was.

-x-

One of the downsides to my friendship with Severus was that after we met my academic progress slowed. Before I met him I had much more free time, and so I used it to do school work, as that was one of the few things that could keep my mind occupied. Now that time was spent with him. That’s not to say I was suddenly progressing at a rate which was typical for a child of my apparent age, just that I dedicated less time to learning anything except mathematics.

By the time I was ten, most of the school work Lizzie provided covered things I remembered learning in my first year or two of Canadian high school. I wasn’t sure how that compared to British schools in the present, but I figured most of it couldn’t be too different. In math though, I was finishing off topics from my grade twelve pre-calculus class, and Lizzie was running out of things to teach me. It was fortunate that Hogwarts would be coming soon.

The point was, I was still well ahead of my peers, but I wasn’t ready to graduate at twelve like I could have been if I dedicated more time to school work. Sure, I knew a lot of the material, but there were some topics that I didn’t learn in Canadians schools, like British history. Furthermore, I still had to take the time to do the assignments Lizzie set for me, and take the time to sit through lessons where Lizzie “taught” me the material.

The topics I was unfamiliar with were absorbed easily, including the magical ones. I wondered if my brain hadn’t just sped up completely in its development, and it retained adult cognitive functioning while coming with the benefits of a child’s developing mind. Children’s brains were sponges, they learned much faster than adults could ever hope to. It would appear I somehow managed to get the best of both worlds. Perhaps my magic had something to do with it.

Having adult cognition and a child’s ability to learn did not help me understand transfiguration at all though. The more I read on the topic, the less sense it made to me. What was so different about gold? Why did one need a Philosopher's Stone to transfigure it? In all my reading, I never found any reference to the impossibility of transfiguring any other elements.

And you didn’t want to get me started on food! It was possible to summon it, multiply it, and transfigure it into other foods. It was possible to conjure water and wine, but conjuring food was impossible? Like. Dude. What the actual fuck? It made no sense at all.

Hell, you can conjure live animals, but not dead ones? How did that even work? What if you conjured a chicken, killed it, and then cooked it? At what point does something go wrong?

In my frustration, I brought the topic up to Severus, but he didn’t seem to find it as illogical as I did. It was probably one of those things that people raised around magic just accepted as fact without question. Kind of like I accepted how televisions worked without questioning the finer details. (Except I knew there was an actual explanation behind it, I just never bothered to go beyond the basics, because I didn’t really _care_.)

Evidently I would have to ask the transfiguration professor those sorts of questions when I got to Hogwarts. I wondered if McGonagall would be the one teaching in this world.

Idly, I wished I had someone I could bet on it with.

-x-

Despite experiencing reincarnation, I never really thought about death and what would happen if I died again. It seemed far off, and like something I didn’t need to worry about. That changed when our elderly neighbour died. It was early December not long before Lily and I turned ten when he died from a heart attack. It wasn’t a loss to me, personally. I never spoke to the man. But it made me question things.

What happened to him? In my own experience, reincarnation was what happened when you died. But where was he reborn? _When_ was he reborn? The past? The Future? Moments after his death? Was he even reborn in this world? Or did he, like me, end up in some world that was foreign to him? One that should be fictional, but wasn’t?

My thoughts spiraled, and it wasn’t long before I started wondering what would happen when _I_ died again. Would I be reborn again? Was this even really only my second life? Or had I lived many other previous lives, but only remembered the one? If I was reborn again, where would I end up? I could be reborn in the world of the Hunger Games or something.

For weeks, I dwelled on the topic. At night, I had horrible dreams of being slaughtered by enemy ninja and sacrificed to demons. Lizzie and Richard grew concerned, but clearly didn’t know what to do. They tried to get my to open up and tell them what was bothering me, but I just clamped up and refused to speak whenever they pried.

They were equal parts concerned and relieved when I snapped out of it a few months later and went back to normal.

The fear of death and the unknown continued to linger in my mind, but one day in February, the (presumed) date of my death in my last life, I had a sudden epiphany.

If I don’t die, then I don’t need to worry about what will happen to me after death.

-x-

Obviously, the whole not dying thing wasn’t exactly straightforward. There was no step-by-step guide to living forever, even for witches.

So okay, known options:

First, there was the Philosopher's Stone. But Nicholas Flamel was the only known creator, and it wasn’t like it was conveniently being hidden in Hogwarts any time in the near future. Or ever, since there is no Voldemort in this world. It followed that if I wanted one, I would need to make it myself in all likelihood. But alchemy was heavily based in transfiguration from what I remembered, and transfiguration made no fucking sense to me, so unless that changed when I started Hogwarts, that was out. Not to mention the Stone only granted pseudo-immortality. I would be completely dependent on the Elixir of Life, and could still be killed or die in an accident at any moment.

The other method that I remembered from canon was horcruxes. But I couldn’t remember if it was canon or just fanon that splitting your soul makes you insane, and so I would need to do a lot of research before making one. I would need to learn how to resurrect myself before I died though, or I would be stuck as... well, whatever the hell canon Voldemort was between 1981 and 1995. Also like, creating one involves murder and apparently a bunch of other unspeakable things, so like. I’d prefer not to commit morally reprehensible acts in my quest for immortality.

My only other idea was based on pure fanon, and that was gathering the Deathly Hallows and hoping that mastering death comes with immortality. That wasn’t likely, but having the Hallows could be really useful.

Evidence against the idea that collecting all three Hallows grants immortality would be canon Harry. Sure he survived the killing curse again after owning all three of them, but it was heavily implied they had nothing to do with it.

On the other hand, one could consider that by that point, though he was the owner of the cloak and wand, he had already tossed aside the stone before facing Voldemort, and arguably had given up possession of it. So it could be argued that no one knows the true power of uniting the Hallows, because Harry never actually collected them all in one location.

Also apparently canon didn’t mean much here, so like. Did it even matter what happened with them in canon?

It was still unlikely to grant me a form of immortality, but as I said, having the Deathly Hallows would still be really useful.

At the end of the day, my best option was to start researching. Just because something was never brought up in the books, didn’t mean it doesn’t exist. There were quite possibly many other methods of immortality, I just had to find them.

My first step would be to check into all sorts of myths surrounding immortality in the magical world. Quite likely, I would need to look into myths from cultures all over the world, but for now I would start with what I had access to.

I scoured Auntie’s books for tales of eternal life, but I didn’t find anything of use. Hopefully the library at Hogwarts had something. I could probably check the shops in Knockturn Alley as well at some point... though preferably once I learn to defend myself from sketchy alley dwellers...

-x-

There were times that I desperately missed home. I missed my real mother, the one who loved me and supported me and advocated for me. I missed my best friend who was always there for me no matter what, even when we lived on opposite sides of the country. I missed my dog, who was small and fluffy and greying and didn’t have long left herself.

I missed little things too. Like the music. My favourite songs only existed in my head, and when I forgot a line from a song I didn’t even have the internet to look it up. I missed my favourite stuffed rabbit, Sir Eugene Flufflebuns III, and my favourite pair of black skinny jeans.

Actually, fashion sucked in the 60s. Everyone looked so... ugh. Sure, some of the dresses were cute, but otherwise I was actually looking forward to robes.

Maybe I would even learn to make clothes with magic, so I could make things I actually liked. Then I could look a bit more like myself.

Every once in awhile I’d lock myself in the bathroom, climb up on the sink, and sit there, staring at my reflection in the mirror. It sounded vain, and like something out of a poorly written novel as an excuse to describe the main character, but I couldn’t help it.

I would sit and trace the differences in my appearance, softly singing songs that had yet to be written, if they ever would be.

My eyes were the same, a dull green that had nothing on Lily’s brilliant bottle-green eyes. My hair was blonde, lighter than I remembered it being as a child in my first life, and I wondered if it would eventually darken to brown here as well. Lizzie was still blonde and Richard was a red head, so probably not. My face was more oval than round this time, and my nose was narrower, my lips thinner, and I was missing the dimple in my chin.

I missed that dimple. My mom had it, her siblings had it, and all of my cousins had it too. It was a family trait.

Some differences were harder to spot since I was still just a kid. My shoulders seemed to be broader than both my sisters’, so I was resigned to having man shoulders again. I wasn’t sure how my height would compare. I was much shorter than Petunia, who had three years on me, but I was also a little taller than Lily.

I looked a lot like I used to, and to be honest it fucked with me. It was some sort of uncanny valley shit. The similarities were so strong, but there was just something fundamentally off, and it made things just feel wrong. It was creepy.

Often, I wondered if I had looked completely different, would I feel so disturbed with my appearance? I would probably never know.

-x-

My favourite part about going over tot he Snapes’ house was using my magic freely, without being worried about getting caught by my family.

If I wanted a book I couldn’t reach, I levitated it down. If I wanted something across the room, I summoned it. Each use of my magic gave me a little rush, and I relished in using it so freely.

Until Auntie said we needed to talk.

After lessons one Saturday when I was nine, she asked to speak with me in private. She ushered Severus to his bedroom and sat me down at the kitchen table.

I sat there anxiously until she finished preparing two cups of tea and sat down across from me. My apprehension must have been plain on my face, because she smiled gently and assured me I wasn’t in any trouble.

“What is it then?” I asked tentatively.

“I have noticed something, Pansy, that I’m concerned about,” she started.

“Did I do something wrong?” My voice sounded small to my own ears. I tried to figure out what it could have been. Situations like this always made me anxious. It wasn’t as bad as it was in my first life, but I still often worried about making mistakes or doing something wrong.

“Not at all,” Auntie reassured me. “I just need to ask you a few questions, okay?”

“Kay.” I nodded, but despite her words, I still felt the cold tightness of anxiety flood my lungs.

“When you use magic, what does it feel like?” she inquired.

My nosed scrunched up. That wasn’t what I was expecting, and I didn’t know where she was going with this line of inquiry. “It feels... good. Like I can feel the magic flowing through me. It’s invigorating. Why?”

She ignored my question and responded with one of her own. “Do you find that you have to use increasing amounts of magic to get that feeling? For example, something simple, that used to give you that feeling, no longer gives you as strong of a feeling?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I answered, wondering where she was going with this.

At my response, she closed her eyes and exhaled. “It's as I feared then.”

I chewed on my lip and stared at Auntie, the cold feeling inside me swelling up to the point I couldn't bear to speak.

“I had a brother.” she said, staring blankly at the wall, clutching the handle of her tea cup so tightly her knuckles were white. “He was three years younger than me, and when he was seven, he died.”

Auntie took a deep, shuddering breath and let go of the tea cup. “His name was Severus. He had amazing control of his magic and frequently used it, much like you do. He would start doing more and more complex things, using more and more magic. We were all so proud of him for having such mastery of his magic. We were sure he was going to be one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Then one day, while using his magic for something—I can't even remember what—he collapsed.”

She clasped her hands together tightly, and swallowed. “I—the thing is, we use a wand for a reason. We do have our own magic, but it's generally not much. Wands let us use the ambient magic around us. This let's us do powerful magic without draining us.

“But wandless magic, including accidental magic, uses our own. And my brother—my little, baby brother—he used all of his up. That wasn't the problem though. You can recover from that, it just takes time. Our magic replenishes with rest and food. But, you see, Severus was using so much magic because _it felt good.”_

My breath hitched, my eyes grew wide.

“He would have been fine, except he kept trying to use his magic when none was there.” Her voice warbled. A tear slipped down her cheek. “The stress he was putting on his body in his attempt to use his magic when he had none... his body couldn't take it.”

“He died from it.” I whispered, my hand rising to cover my mouth.

“Yes.” Auntie said solemnly. “You see, the reason he tried to keep using his magic when there was none... He wanted—needed—the high using his magic gave him. It's called magic addiction.”

“You think I might have it.”

“Yes.”

-x-

Magic addiction was a rare condition. The first recorded case of it was sometime in the middle of the nineteenth century. Since then, there had been eighteen documented cases, including the case of Severus Prince. Of those cases, fourteen were in muggleborns.

It wasn’t known why the condition occurred.

Fortunately, Severus Prince’s fate was not typical of magic addiction. He was an extreme case. Most of those afflicted didn’t manage to drain themselves. They lived long enough to get a wand which helped prevent that. Like Auntie said, wands allowed you to manipulate ambient magic. You still needed to use a bit of your own, but the amount was minuscule compared to how much magic it would take to accomplish the same task without a wand. A magic addict still got the same high though, regardless of if they performed the magic with a wand or not.

To magic addicts like myself and Severus Prince, magic was like a drug. One that you needed increasingly higher doses of to get the same feeling of euphoria. The more powerful the magic you cast, the higher the “dose,” so to speak. That was where the condition became dangerous for witches or wizards with a wand. It drove many of them to practice dark magic.

Of the eighteen documented cases, thirteen died before their fiftieth birthday. Severus Prince’s fate was shared with two others, while the others died because they lost control of a dark spell and accidentally killed themselves, or they were killed because their use of dark magic made them a danger to society.

The other five managed to lead fairly normal lives.

-o-

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:** To reflect the original notes, I will state that aside from Pansy/OC all other ships are up in the air.
> 
>  **Important Changes:** reordered scenes and made adjustments to when some scenes occurred in order to reduce how non-chronological things were. Some things were hard to fix and so there is still some slight jumping around.


	4. I:III

A Black Flower

Part I

III

-o-

Due to the tendency towards practising the dark arts, those formally diagnosed with magic addiction were monitored closely by the Ministry of Magic. Their wands were monitored with a spell similar to the trace, there were many jobs they were banned from holding, and they were restricted from practising certain fields of magic including, but not limited to, the dark arts in any form, alchemy, advanced healing spells, and most wards.

As such, it was imperative that I hid my condition. According to Auntie, that meant concealing from others the extent of my wandless abilities and controlling my emotions whenever I cast magic, among other things.

Though it was too late to be of use to her brother, Auntie learned everything she could about magic addiction, probably as a coping mechanism. I reaped the benefits of her efforts as she shared it all with me.

A lot of dealing with it was a matter of self-control and not giving in to the desire to use magic for the purpose of getting high. When learning magic, it was best to start with spells that didn’t require much power, and then work up to more powerful spells incrementally.

To compare it to a more typical substance addiction, consider it like this: Suppose you were used to taking thirty milligrams of a substance. If you increased the dose to thirty-one milligrams you wouldn’t notice much different in the effects. However, if you jumped from thirty to eighty milligrams, the effects would be noticeable.

The point was to avoid intense highs, as those were what driove people to use dangerous magic chasing after them.

Many addicts turned to the dark arts because dark magic was usually very powerful but relatively easy to cast. Other branches of magic like wards, alchemy, and healing had many powerful spells, but they were much harder to learn. Those fields typically required learning more theory. Most addicts went for a quick fix, i.e. the dark arts, because they didn’t want to put in any practice or a lot of effort to learn all the required theory when, essentially, all they wanted to do was get high.

I didn’t want to end up like those people.

So I practised using a specific amount of magic until I no longer got the buzz I once did, and then slowly started using more. It took ages to get to the point where using my magic no longer gave me a rush. I was over at the Snapes’ as much as possible, almost constantly using my magic, but never too much at once.

It was hard. It was like a little voice in my head was encouraging me to use more powerful magic, because didn’t I want to feel good like that again? No one had to know.

But I ignored it. I told myself that if I did give in, then eventually someone _would_ know, and the consequences were not something that I wanted to live with for the rest of my life.

-x-

“Wait,” I blinked to clear my mind and held up both my index fingers. “You have a _sister_?”

“Yes, Pansy. I have a sister.” Lizzie confirmed in an exasperated tone. “Her name is Theresa.”

“Why is this the first time I’ve heard of her?” I titled my head and scrunched my nose.

Lizzie sighed. “If you had been _around more_ , you would know the answer to that.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” I snapped at her.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young lady!” Lizzie scolded. “And what I _mean_ is that you haven’t heard about this because you’ve been spending all your time at Eileen’s with Severus. Your father barely sees you, and outside of your lessons, the same goes for me.”

That was true. While I spent plenty of time with Severus and Auntie before she told me about magic addiction, I spent even more time there after the diagnosis. The time I spent at home was almost entirely spent in lessons and studying or alone in my room.

From her reprimanding tone, I knew Lizzie wanted me to apologize or feel guilty or something, but neither of those options were happening. I had a good reason to spend so much time with Severus and Auntie, and I didn’t owe Lizzie or Richard anything, even if they were my parents in this life.

Though, upon thinking about it for a moment, I was pretty sure I had seen that Lizzie had a sister when I looked into our family history.

“So... your sister?” I prompted after an awkward stretch of silence.

“We had a falling out over our mother’s death shortly after Petunia was born. Last year she contacted me to try and fix things.” she explained. The way she looked at me seemed to say that I would know that if I was around more.

I ignored the look and asked another question. “What was the fall out about? Like, specifically?”

Lizzie ran her hand through her hair. “Theresa was the one in charge of what to do with our mum’s body. Mum wanted to be cremated, but Theresa refused to abide by her wishes for her own reasons.”

“Oh. So if we’re going to visit her next week, where does she live?”

“London.”

“How long will we be there?”

“We’ll be staying with her until the end of July.”

“But that’s a week and a half!” I protested.

“Well, it’s about time you spent some time with your family, so I think you can deal with it.”

“No, no!” I back peddled. “I uh... I just meant is it wise to, like, not have a shorter, trial visit beforehand? To make sure you won’t... eh... have a disagreement right away and have to leave all of a sudden without any arrangements in place?”

“Pansy.” she said sternly.

“Yeah, alright. Whatever.” I huffed. “I’ll call Severus and let him know we’ll be going away for awhile, then go pack.”

-x-

It was only a short drive to London and my aunt’s house. That is, by my standards. Apparently Canadian standards are quite different from English ones. It took us just shy of three hours to drive from Cokeworth to London. Back in my last life, that was the distance between my hometown and the next town over. I grew up in a small, northern town, and because of that I had to get used to travelling. If you needed specialized medical care, the nearest city capable of providing it was over six hours away by car.

Thus, while Lily whined about the long drive and how bored she was, I simply stared out the window at the unfamiliar countryside and enjoyed the road trip.

In defense of my twin, this was maybe our third trip out of Cokeworth, and the last one was three years ago when the two of us were seven. If I recalled correctly, she slept through most of that trip.

By the time the car pulled up to my aunt’s house, Petunia was almost annoyed enough to pummel Lily if she didn’t stop asking the dreaded question—are we there yet?

Lily was out of the car as soon as Richard pulled the key from the ignition with Petunia not far behind her. I exited the vehicle at a more sedate pace, as did the adults. We all grabbed our luggage from the trunk—backpacks for me and my sisters, a small suitcase each for Lizzie and Richard.

Luggage in hand we walked up what remained of the drive to the front door. Lizzie took a deep breath and knocked. A dog started barking at the sudden noise and a feminine voice chastised it. A moment later the door swung upon to reveal a red haired man with large, rectangular glasses.

“Lizzie, Richard! Good to see you again. I take it these are your daughters?” he said.

“Yes, the oldest is Petunia,” she gestured to my aforementioned sister. “And these are the twins, Lily and Pansy.” Lily and I waved at him, though Lily did so with more enthusiasm than I could muster.

“Girls, this is my brother-in-law, Nathaniel—”

“—Aw, Lizzie, you know I hate my full name!” my uncle laughed. “You kids can just call me Uncle Nate. Nathaniel is such a mouthful.”

Nate ushered us inside, explaining that Theresa would be just a few moments as she was watching the stove. He invited us to sit in the living room, and just as I took a seat on the carpet a woman in an apron walked in.

Her hair was black and slightly frizzy, her skin a medium ochre hue. She looked nothing like her sister.

“Dizzy!” she squealed and held her arms open for a hug. Lizzie smiled and embraced her.

“Treese!” she giggled. “I haven’t been called that in ages.”

While the two sisters greeted each other, I observed my own siblings. I was pleased to note they looked as confused as I felt. Good. I wasn’t the only one baffled at the dissimilarity between the two.

“Mum, why does your sister look so different?” Lily asked, bless her soul. Children could get away with asking questions like that without getting told off for being rude. I supposed I could currently get away with it too, but why bother when there were genuine children to do it for me?

“I guess it never really came up before, but Theresa and I were adopted.” Lizzie explained. “It’s not really something I think about, to be honest. Mum was my mum, dad was my dad, and even when we weren’t on speaking terms, Theresa is my sister.”

Adopted? I was not expecting that. I would have guessed that they had different fathers.

Lizzie completed introductions, and then we were led down the hall to the guest room where we left our bags.

The adults made light conversation while Theresa finished cooking supper. Meanwhile, Lily, Petunia and I sat on the floor, taking turns petting our aunt’s dog, Judy.

When the meal was ready we all sat down at the kitchen table and joined hands while Theresa said grace. Once she was done, we loaded our plates with mashed potatoes, green beans, and pork chops.

I didn’t say much over dinner, speaking only when I was asked a question directly. Even then, I kept my answers simple, monosyllabic if possible. I didn’t pay much attention to the conversation, but I caught the important things. Theresa was a social worker, Nate was an accountant, they had no children and no plans to have any, their last name was Prewett.

The moment I truly processed the information, I froze. An accountant named Prewett... In canon it was mentioned that Molly Weasley had a squib cousin (of some distance) who was an accountant.

It could be a coincidence, but it made me wonder. What were the chances I’d run into _that_ Prewett accountant? Was that even the family name of Molly Weasley’s cousin? He could have a different one, depending on whether the relation was through male or female relatives.

For the rest of the visit the question weighed on my mind, but I didn’t dare ask him. It was simply not a good idea. Other than memories of the Harry Potter books, I had no reason to suspect he was a squib, and no reason to ask other than to satisfy my own curiosity. If he truly was a squib he might be a bit sore about not having magic. I was a lot of things, but I liked to think I wasn’t tactless enough to throw that in his face for no reason. It was also possible he didn’t even remember magic, if he’d been given up young enough or had his memory modified. Not to mention, if he really was just a muggle then dropping hints about magic was flirting with violating the Statute of Secrecy.

After what felt like months despite being only ten days, the visit drew to a close. By the time we finally left I was itching to get back home and have my own space again. Sleeping in the living room with my sisters was okay for a night or two, but it got old very fast.

-x-

After finding out Lizzie was adopted I grew curious about her family tree again. I knew Richard’s side up to four generations back, excluding my generation and his, and I thought I knew Lizzie’s three generations back, but that was useless since I wasn’t actually _related_ to them.

Whether it was canon or fanon escaped me, but there was the hypothesis that muggleborns were decedents of squibs. Because of that, a few years ago I decided to look for names I recognized as potentially magical in my family tree. To my dismay I discovered that if there were any, neither side of my family kept records that went back far enough.

But perhaps there actually _was_ something on Lizzie’s side that I didn’t uncover because I was looking at her adoptive parents’ relations. Luck wasn’t on my side however, because Lizzie didn’t even know the names of her birth parents and never cared to look.

“It’s not important to me,” she said. “I don’t care who they are. Mum and dad are my parents, not a couple of strangers.”

It frustrated me. Maybe she didn’t care about her heritage, but had she never considered that someday her own children may want to know where they come from? It's not just about feeling a connection to family, but about connection to your heritage. In my last life I didn't particularly care about my ancestors as people or family, but it was nice to know I had German and French roots. It was nice to know where I came from.

Since she knew nothing about them, I decided to ask Auntie if there was a magical way to produce an unknown family tree or something. Most fanfics had something like that, though I don’t think anything like it was mentioned in canon. Usually it was some ritual, or potion, or a blood test at Gringotts.

My hopes if investigating Lizzie’s side of the family tree through magical means were dashed as soon as I asked the question. All things considered, it actually made a lot of sense that there wasn’t some way to do it. If there was a simple way of tracing one’s ancestry, I imagine Voldemort would have done that rather than waste searching for clues to his heritage in old Hogwarts records or whatever.

It was painful to admit to myself, but perhaps reading so much fanfiction last time around wasn’t such a good idea. It was hard to remember just what was fanon and what was canon. Some of it I remembered pretty clearly, like the whole magical core thing was firmly in the fanon category. On the other hand, there were plenty of concepts that started out as fanon but made it into canon later on. Additionally, some fanon concepts were so widely accepted in fanfiction that that they may as well have been canon because you couldn’t find a work without it. It was dreadfully confusing without being able to look it all up on the internet.

Of course, my dreams of looking it up online were pointless. Even if technology was able to do so at this point in time, the internet would not have the answers to my questions. You know, because magic was real and that would be a huge violation of the whole world wide hiding from muggles thing.

-x-

In the year leading up to the September of 1971, Auntie made me a list of common first and second year spells, organized by how much magic each spell consumed. Unfortunately, it was unlikely to be the order in which we would be learning those spells, so she suggested that I start practising in advanced under her supervision using her grandmother's old wand. Severus, of course, also participated in the lessons, though he didn’t know the true reasoning behind them. He just thought his mother was teaching us magic early so we would be ahead.

It was difficult. It was evident the wand didn’t suit me at all. Just holding it felt unnatural, but it was better than nothing. Apparently the problem with having a wand that didn’t suit you was that your magic couldn’t flow through it properly, and thus your own magic couldn’t help you manipulate the ambient magic around you very well, if at all.

Fortunately, it wouldn’t be long before I received a wand of my own.

-x-

It was a dreadfully hot afternoon in early July. Lily, Petunia and I had retreated to the basement in an effort to escape the worst of the heat. We were too hot to do anything that required movement, so the three of us sprawled on the cool tile where Petunia and I usually practised ballet playing Scrabble. We started out playing Monopoly, but Lily dominated the board, much to my own irritation and that of our eldest sister.

After I won a round of Scrabble—which involved many arguments regarding the validity of certain words and whether we were allowed to use vulgar language—my sisters decided it was the winner’s duty to fetch us all an afternoon snack. Scowling at them, I nevertheless climbed up the stairs to the kitchen. The doorbell rang just as I was sneaking a handful of chocolate chip cookies from the jar. I hastily dropped them back inside and went to answer the door.

Upon opening it, I was faced with a man I hadn’t seen before, though there was something about him that seemed slightly familiar. His hair was short and black, not particularly noteworthy. Dull grey eyes. He had a jawline that was, frankly, unfair, and nice cheekbones to match. Overall, a very handsome face. He was tall, but had a narrow frame. He wore black pants, a black button up shirt and a dark red waistcoat. In his hand, he carried a plain black briefcase.

“Miss Evans, I presume?” he said with a small smile. His accent seemed different from any that I’d heard before, but I couldn’t place just what about it was off. He must have been from out of town. I nodded in response to his question, and he continued speaking. “My name is Artemis Rosier. Is your family home? Your entire family, that is?”

Rosier, huh? That name was familiar. “Yes, shall I fetch them?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“MUM! DAD! SOMEONE'S HERE AND WANTS TO TALK TO US! YOU TOO, LILY, PETUNIA!” I hollered after turning away from the stranger.

Richard and Lizzie entered the foyer, their expressions betraying their curiosity.

“Mrs. Evans, Mr. Evans,” Rosier greeted over the clamour of my sisters rushing up the stairs. “I am Professor Artemis Rosier, and I am here to offer Lily and Pansy a place at the school I work for.”

The familiarity of his family name clicked. It was one of the sacred twenty-eight. But why would one of them be here? They were blood purists, if I was remembering things accurately. Even if he was working for Hogwarts, I wouldn’t think he would be the one introducing muggleborns to the concept of magic...

He must have noticed my pensive expression, because he asked me if I was okay.

“You’re from Hogwarts.” I blurted, then slapped my hands over my traitorous mouth. I hadn’t meant to actually reveal my knowledge.

My parents and sisters looked at me in confusion, and Rosier’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze shifting towards me. “May I ask how you’re familiar with that name?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat of silence after I deliberately gave a mathematician's answer, and Lizzie took that moment to speak up.

“Excuse me, er—Professor, but...” she trailed off awkwardly. It was pretty clear she was trying to say _what the fuck is Hogwarts and how the hell did you get information on my daughters to invite them to this school?_

“Pardon me, Mrs. Evans,” Rosier said. “I believe it’s best that I start from the beginning,” he glanced at me, “Even if—Pansy, was it?—seems to have an idea why I’m here.

“As I said, I am a professor. The school I teach at is called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out two letters. He handed me and my twin our respective letters.

Everyone except me started at him incredulously.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Richard demanded.

“Not at all, sir.” Rosier smiled, his wand dropping from his sleeve into his hand. “Observe—geminio.”

The doubling spell hit one of the shoes by the door, creating a duplicate and prompting dumbfounded looks from all but me.

“It’s real, guys. I can do magic too—and so can Lily, I guess.” I pulled a coin from my pocket and levitated it a few centimetres above my palm. It was something simple enough that it shouldn’t raise any red flags by itself. “Auntie and Severus can do magic, too.”

“Your control is quite good for an untrained witch, Miss Evans.” Rosier commented. Was he suspicious? Did he have the knowledge to be suspicious...?

“Thank you, sir.” I demurred.

From there, Rosier explained the existence of magic, the Statute of Secrecy, and why it was important that Lily and I attend Hogwarts over tea in the living room. But only after he generously cast a charm to cool the temperature inside the house.

“A boarding school?” Lizzie fretted. “That sounds expensive...”

“A common concern, Mrs. Evans. However Hogwarts is funded by the Ministry of Magic. There is no charge for tuition, and room and board are provided without fees. The only cost to you will be their supplies, and even then we have a fund for students who are unable to afford them, such as orphans.” he explained.

Richard looked over the supply list from Lily's letter, his eyebrows climbing higher up his forehead the further he read. “A magic wand? Cauldrons? Robes? Where on earth are we supposed to find this stuff?”

“There is a hidden, magical shopping district in London. It's called Diagon Alley and is inaccessible to non-magical people without an escort.” Rosier gave Richard directions to the Leaky Cauldron, then went on to briefly explain the monetary system and what to expect. He offered to take us to the Alley in a week's time with the other muggleborn first years and their families, but I declined before anyone could agree, explaining that Auntie offered to take us.

“What are we supposed to tell people?” Lizzie asked.

“We have an arrangement with the muggle government. The school is listed as an independent school called Ogward’s School for the Gifted. The cover story is that the school is highly exclusive and invitation only.” the professor explained. "If anyone pushes for too many details, say privacy is taken seriously, as there are some high profile students in attendance."

“Is their education transferable to, er, normal post-secondary institutions?” Lizzie asked. "Pansy particularly is interested in university."

Rosier looked at me again, like he was considering something. “Not typically, however there are arrangements that can be made should a student pursue a muggle education independently.”

And on it went. After answering even more questions from the family, Rosier told us he was looking forward to teaching me and Lily, and departed.

As soon as he was out of the house, all attention was turned on me.

-x-

It took me awhile to explain everything to my family. I omitted a few key details, such as my magic addiction, and sprinkled in a few white lies as necessary—“I had no idea Lily was a witch, too!”

They were upset I’d kept this secret for so long, and I had to go over the finer details of the Statute of Secrecy with them. It was illegal to tell muggles about magic unless they are immediate family, and a permit from the ministry must be attained beforehand. A permit for the family of muggleborns is issued when a Hogwarts professor is scheduled to meet with them. Technically someone in my position could have applied for a permit to tell them earlier, but it was more work than it was worth, and it could take up to a year to actually sign off on it. I wisely kept that part to myself. Also as long as no one from the ministry found out I told them early it would have been fine, but I didn't tell them that, either.

After everyone understood why I didn’t say anything, Lizzie called Auntie to invite her and Severus over for supper to discuss _this whole witchy thing_.

The Snapes and I answered my family’s enthusiastic questions about magic and the wizarding world over fish and chips. Lily practically bounced in excitement and hung on to every word said regarding magic.

“Oh! I can’t believe this is happening!” my twin confided after the Snapes left. “I can’t help but think that I’ll wake up tomorrow morning to find this was all a dream!”

“Silly-Lily,” I laughed. “It’s one hundred percent real.”

Lily pouted and crossed her arms. “You do realize that if this is a dream, dream-Pansy would say that, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” I agreed. “But when you wake up tomorrow and ask if it was a dream, I’m going to say I told you so!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “That’s hardly anything new. I’m gonna take a bath and go to bed. Goodnight, Pans.”

“Goodnight, little sister” I called as she entered the bathroom.

“Ugh! Only by a few minutes, Pansy! Let it go, already!” she hollered back while I snickered.

I checked the time. It was just past nine, so I decided to get ready for bed, too.

I hurried down the stairs to my room in the basement. I closed my door behind me and grabbed a book from my shelf to read before going to sleep. I drifted off a quarter of the way through the novel, only to wake to the sound of music playing softly.

I rubbed my eyes and set the book aside. Yawning, I quietly left my room to investigate the noise. I was sure it was Petunia—when she had trouble sleeping she would dance or practice the flute to relax. Sometimes she just wasn't tired, but more often she was too upset to sleep, and considering what just happened earlier today, I was willing to bet on the latter.

I found her sitting in the corner of the main room which we used for dancing, her face buried in her arms, which rested on her knees. Her long blonde hair fell around her shaking shoulders in disarray. I bumped the table with the record player as I approached her and she jerked her head up in surprise.

“Petunia?”

“What do _you_ want?” she hissed at me with a dark look.

“Well, I...” I hesitated, chewing my lip. “I want to know what's wrong.”

Petunia choked out a laugh.

“What's wrong?” she said. “What's _wrong_?!

“What's wrong is that no matter what I do, I'm over shadowed by you and Lily!” She raged. “Mum and dad could care less about my achievements—dancing and music isn't going to get me anywhere, they say. But you're _special_ , a bloody super genius, and they can't shut up about it. Doesn’t matter that you’re never around. It’s still Pansy this, Pansy that!

“And then, well. I learned to deal with that. It’s not your fault, and well, you are freakishly smart... And I started dancing and playing the flute and for awhile _I_ felt special. _I_ was talented... But mum and dad stopped caring about the things _I’m_ good at. Saying they were getting in the way of my school work. 'If you didn't waste so much time dancing then maybe you'd be getting top marks like Lily' they say.

“They always ask me why I can't be more like Lily. Why can't I get top marks like her? Why am I not as friendly or outgoing as Lily? Why don't I help out around the house more like Lily, instead of wasting my time with frivolous hobbies? Why, why, _why_?!”

“Petunia...” I whispered, feeling like an idiot. How did I not see this? How did I not see that Lizzie and Richard were so critical of Petunia, and constantly compared her unfavourably to Lily? (I ignored the part of me that knew why I didn't see it—I wasn't looking. I was too focused of me, too self absorbed.)

“And now,” she sobbed. “And now we find out that you and Lily are even more _special_ than me. Plain, old, ordinary me. As far as everyone will be concerned, you and Lily are off at a school for the gifted—and me? No, I, obviously, am not good enough to go to a school for the gifted! It's quite clear that I'm the _lesser_ Evans sister—”

I cut Petunia off there. “You are most certainly _not_ lesser than either Lily or me!” I knelt down next to Petunia and wrapped an arm around her. “L-Mum and dad love you just as much as they love me and Lily. I can't really speak for them, but... They are proud of you and how far you've come as a dancer and musician. I'm not sure how to phrase this, exactly... But I think _they think_ you're not thinking about your future, and that you should be focusing on getting good grades so you can succeed later in life. And that like, your grades aren't as good as they could be because you dedicate so much time to dancing, and they don't understand why.” I paused to yawn and rub my eyes. “Sorry, I'm really tired, and not explaining it well. Does that make sense?”

I felt Petunia shrug, and sighed. “They just... to them artistic pursuits are hobbies, not something you really dedicate yourself to. I think they just really don't understand how important to you music and dance is, and... am I making sense?”

“I guess so.” she said. “But... it's _not_ a hobby. Dancing is what I want to do in the future, Pansy. My dream is dance with the Royal Ballet, and Madam Proulx thinks I could make it into the school if I apply. And since she went there as a girl herself...”

My eyes widened. “Are you serious? That's amazing! What do Li—er—mum and dad think?”

Fuck, I was exhausted, even more so than I thought. That was the second time I almost slipped up and said Lizzie instead of mum in this conversation.

Petunia shrugged. “I haven't told them yet. I was going to, but...”

“But?” I prompted, and she stared at me like I was an idiot. “...Petunia?”

“Pansy... for a genius you sure can be stupid.” My elder sister sighed and tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I had the conversation with Madam Proulx after lessons yesterday. I was planning on telling everyone at dinner tonight.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Well. Fuck.” That made it so much worse. We completely stole her thunder. “Sorry...” 

“It's not your fault, really.” she admitted. "It's not like you knew that professor would show up today."

“Still... Ooooh! I have an idea!” I started bouncing in place in my excitement. “Right so, part of it is you feel like people will look down on you because Lily and me got into a school for the gifted, but you didn't right? Well, why don't we say you were offered a place too, but you declined, because you wouldn't be able to continue doing ballet and your and music lessons? And when you get it in to the Royal Ballet School—”

“— _If,_ I get in, Pansy! I haven't even applied yet!” Petunia interrupted, but I dismissed her with a wave of my hand.

“Oh please, you're amazing, Petunia. You’re better than the older girls who have been dancing since they could walk. You'll get in for sure. We just have to convince mum and dad.”

“...Thanks Pansy.”

-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:** “Ogward’s” came about because I decided the cover name should be something similar enough that if someone slipped up they could explain it away easily, and I felt that there actually did need to be a cover name.
> 
> For those who don't know, a "mathematician's answer" is an answer to a question that is technically correct, but doesn't actually answer the question or provide any useful information. E.g. "Is it a girl or a boy?" "Yes." The yes is technically correct, it is either a girl or a boy, but that is not what the person asking the question wanted to know.
> 
> I don’t recall if I mentioned it in earlier notes, but I know fuck all about Britain in the 60s and 70s. So forgive any inaccuracies. If you want to point them out and a way to fix them, feel free and I might edit them when I have time.
> 
> A pet peeve of mine: characters getting their first Hogwarts letters on their birthdays. This does not happen in canon. Harry ends up reading his first letter on his birthday, and I think that’s the origin of this bit of fanon, but they’d been sending him letters for ages before that point. As far as we can tell, students receive their letters the summer before the school year starts.
> 
>  **Important Changes:** I added in some small details that will be relevant later, and made more insignificant changes to other scenes.


	5. I:IV

A Black Flower

Part I

IV

-o-

Auntie and Severus led me and the rest of the Evans family down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley towards the imposing white marble of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

“And why can't we just go to a regular bank, again? Or better yet just write a cheque...” Richard muttered, eyeing the goblins dressed in scarlet that were standing guard at the bank's doors. To be honest, I was tempted to stare too, since they looked so different from how they were portrayed in the movies— _They were green!_ _ **Green!—**_ but I managed to refrain.

“Dad!” I chastised. “Don't be _rude_! Besides, we've explained this—the Statute of Secrecy prevents muggle banks from carrying wizarding currency, so you can't exchange money there! And it's like going to a foreign country—they don't accept foreign cheques.”

“Yes. Yes... I don't see why though. This is England, can't they just accept pounds?” he continued to grumble.

“Dad, please.” I begged. “You're being rude, and you really don't want to offend the goblins.”

Fortunately, Richard quieted before we reached the bank. Auntie led us inside and directed us to the currency exchange while she and Severus went to withdraw money from their vault. The line was long, with only one goblin serving muggle customers, so I resigned myself to waiting and preventing the rest of my family from saying anything offensive in the mean time.

Finally, we reached the teller. “Exchange rate is four pounds to the galleon. We accept cash or cheque, with a three percent fee for accepting cheques.”

“Er, how much for... sixty galleons, if paying by cheque?” Richard asked, taking out his chequebook and a pen. The goblin grunted a number, and Richard wrote the cheque and accepted the galleons in exchange.

We met Auntie and Severus outside of the bank.

“Hm... Let's save wands for last—make sure to keep out about 15 galleons for the two of them.” Auntie suggested. “We should probably start with books...”

“Won't those be heavy though? Shouldn't we save those for last?” Lizzie countered.

“I can shrink and lighten things, so we don't need to worry about that sort of thing.” Auntie explained kindly, aware that Lizzie and Richard wouldn't be used to the conveniences of magic.

And so Auntie led us to Flourish and Blotts. Walking into the store we were greeted with the smell of parchment and ink. The store was larger inside than outside, bending the laws of physics and evoking a sense of awe in both my family and myself. A sign pointed to a section of the store where required texts for Hogwarts were separated by subject and organized by year, making it easy to locate all the books we would be purchasing. After finding them all and mentally calculating the total price to be reasonable, I convinced Lizzie and Richard to let us pick out some supplementary texts.

Lily was drawn to the history books, probably out of curiosity towards the new world that just opened up to her, and Petunia passed time leafing through _Hogwarts: A History_. Severus migrated to the potions section and I, naturally, started paging through arithmancy texts. The third year texts seemed to mostly feature extremely basic math (I would guess it was early high school level) and focus on the properties of numbers and the magical theory of the subject. At the very end of the book it touched on predicting the outcomes of simple scenarios. Out of curiosity, I grabbed the seventh year textbooks and found that most of the math still wasn't terribly advanced, but it was used in unfamiliar formulae to predict the outcome of more complicated scenarios, and towards the end it went into how to create your own formula for non-standard events, and there were references to higher level texts to pursue once the reader mastered the concepts in the book itself. It looked absolutely fascinating. And this was only the branch of the subject they taught at Hogwarts, the introduction of the books made it clear that there were many different fields of arithmancy.

“Are you done yet, Pansy?” Severus asked, his interruption jerking me back to reality. “It's been forty minutes. The rest of us finished ages ago.”

“Huh? Oh. Um. Yeah.” I nodded, sliding the book I was going through back onto the shelf. “Where to?”

“Aren’t you going to get anything?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. I shook my head, prompting him to roll his eyes. “Tch. You make the suggestion and take the longest, yet you aren’t even getting anything—typical. Mum’s taking us to get our uniforms next.”

I followed Severus out of the store, meeting the others at the exit. Auntie led us down the Alley towards a clothing store that was distinctly _not_ Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Whether the store existed or not was up in the air—perhaps it did, perhaps it didn’t, perhaps it didn’t _yet._ I put the matters of existence aside as I entered the robe shop and mentally prepared myself for a necessary but unpleasant task—clothes shopping with my family.

I didn’t actually dislike clothes shopping in itself. But over the years I learned that I hate the current stylistic trends and usually thought the things my sisters adored were hideous. Shopping with them frequently turned into a fight because I would accidentally tell them the truth, i.e. that they looked ridiculous in that atrocious top and suddenly I was the bad guy and grounded.

Despite lacking a bell, there was a chime as the seven of us entered. Almost immediately, a balding man with a tape measure around his shoulders and pins tucked into the front of his robes greeted us.

“Welcome to Needles and Threads! Four sets of Hogwarts uniforms, I assume?” he said, glancing at us. I fought back a snort at the name of the store. How unoriginal.

“Three sets.” Auntie corrected smoothly. “All first years. Two girls, one boy.”

“Of course, of course. If you’ll just follow me...” The man turned on his heel and led us through the store to the back. We passed rows of colourful fabric squares on display, and racks of equally colourful robes. He stopped in front of a shelf stocked with labelled boxes.

“Here we are, girls on the left, boys on the right. There are fitting rooms just over there where you can try them on, and for an extra fee we can alter them for a better fit. Sizing chart is on the wall, if you need any help just let us know.”

“Thank you, I believe we’ll be fine.” Auntie said with a polite smile. With that, the man spun on his heel once more and left.

“Alright, Severus, you know your size, yes? Why don’t you go grab a uniform kit in your size and the size up and try them on. See how they fit. You’ll surely grow a bit during the school year... I’ll help the girls, alright dear?”

“Yes, mum.” Severus mumbled and went off to browse the boys’ section.

Auntie herded the rest of us over to the sizing chart, which was fairly straight forward. Sizes were given, and then a list of measurements in centimetres that would fit those sizes.

“Sizing is standard across the store.” Auntie explained. “Lily, you look like you’re probably a Hogwarts 2... Pansy, a Hogwarts 4, I think. Elizabeth, Richard, will you be buying the girls casual robes as well? Or just the uniform?”

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it to be honest...” Lizzie said. “I suppose just the uniforms for now... we can always come back in the future...”

Auntie nodded and then helped Lily and I find robes to try on in the appropriate sizes.

Uniform kits in hand, Lily and I waited in line behind Severus for a free fitting room. Despite how busy the store was, there were plenty of rooms so we didn’t have to wait long. The store was probably used to a rush of customers after Hogwarts letters went out.

I entered the fitting room and pulled the deep red curtain closed behind me. I set the box containing the uniform on the stool in the corner of the room and started to undress.

For the first time, I actually really looked at the robes. Until that point, to be honest, I didn’t really process what robes actually looked like. It was like this, I saw them, my brain said “oh, robes” and just dismissed them as unimportant.

The Hogwarts uniform was completely different than how it was portrayed in the movies. There was no pleated skirt, no button up shirt and tie, no sweater vest. Instead, there were three major parts to it.

The first was a very loose, flowing white blouse with huge, elbow length sleeves. Following the diagram on the inside of the lid, I put it on first and slipped into the white tights with ease that came from years of practice.

Next, was a black, fitted and sleeveless dress-like garment with a notched collar. It buttoned all the ways down the front. I slipped it on and noticed that it flared out a bit at the waist. The front fell just above my knees, but it was longer in the back. Smoothing it down, I noticed pintucks along the breasts, which went all the ways down to the hem.

Finally, I pulled out the last major part, which I found to be the most “robe-like” of the uniform. It too was black, with a white collar and the Hogwarts crest on the left breast. It appeared to be about ankle length. I slipped it on and found that the sleeves were incredibly loose, especially below the elbow. The front of the robe had buttons on both sides of the garment, with a string connecting them. Looking at the diagram, I saw that tightening the string pulled the two sides together and closed the robes. Last but not least, I grabbed the white cloth belt and wrapped it around my waist, jerking in surprise when it tied itself up in a bow and positioned itself correctly.

A quick glance from the diagram to my reflection in the mirror floating at the back of the fitting room confirmed I seemed to have dressed myself correctly. With a deep breath I stepped out of the fitting room.

“Mum? Auntie?” Upon hearing my call, Lizzie and Auntie came bustling over.

“Ah, Pansy!” Lizzie smiled. “Let’s have a look.”

“Hm... the outer robe looks good, dear. A little long, but not too much” Auntie said. “Don’t you think, Elizabeth? Yes, now take it off and let me see how the under robes fit.”

Following her direction, I removed the outer robe, albeit with a bit of difficulty with the unfamiliar garment. Once it was off, Auntie took it from me and started pulling at the under robes.

“Yes, hm... a bit loose, but you’ll grow throughout the year I’m sure...” She muttered. “I think these will do. Why don’t you change back into your clothes and then grab six more sets? We’re still waiting on Severus and Lily.”

“Okay.”

I walked back into the fitting room, and changed back into my normal clothes. I did my best to fold the uniform up and placed it back in the box.

I pushed the curtain aside and found Auntie fussing over Lily, much like she had fussed over me, while Severus stood awkwardly to the side in his own uniform, likely waiting his turn.

The male uniform was quite different than the female one. The outer robe was similar, but the sleeves weren’t as loose and it was completely open. The under robes, however, resembled one of those gowns typically worn at graduation ceremonies.

Nodding to the others, I wandered back to the section where I’d found my uniform and grabbed six more boxes marked with the correct size. Unsure what to do next, I returned to the fitting area, awkwardly carrying the stack of uniform kits. I noticed that at some point the adults had procured a shopping cart and placed the boxes inside.

“Pansy dear, why don’t you go find your dad and Petunia?” Lizzie suggested. “They were looking at the winter cloaks and pointed hats. Eileen says to go up two sizes on the winter cloak, alright?”

“Right, mum.” I smiled and left to find Petunia and Richard. It took me awhile, but once I found them they helped me pull the appropriate sized cloak off the rack and try it on. It was large on me but not awkwardly so. There was room for me to grow into it, so it should last me a few years. Satisfied with the fit, we then grabbed two pointed hats—one for myself and one for Lily.

They were actually cuter than I expected, the hats. They weren’t too tall, and had a pretty white ribbon tied around the base.

Finally, the three of us grabbed a pair of protective gloves and uniform regulation black boots and proceeded to the front of the store to wait for the rest of our party. It didn’t take them long to arrive, though Lily grabbed a hat of her own that she had to put back, and the checkout went fairly smoothly.

As soon as we were outside of the store, Lily made a face. “Ugh, I can’t believe we have to wear that every day!” she complained. “It was so weird and ugly.”

“It... was quite different.” Lizzie admitted.

Petunia snorted. “Glad I don’t have to wear it.”

“Hey!” I protested, my face burning. “I thought it looked really cool!”

Fortunately, Auntie wasn’t offended by everyone’s opinions on robes and just smiled indulgently. She admitted they were a bit odd if you weren’t used to them, and added that she wasn’t exactly used to them herself anymore after so many years in the muggle world.

Next we went to Potage’s Cauldron shop, from there to the apothecary where we didn’t need to buy anything for school, but Eileen needed some ingredients for her own brewing, and then over to Wiseacre’s for our telescopes, glass phials and scales.

Wiseacre’s was full of interesting trinkets, but sadly the adults didn’t let us explore before Auntie herded us over to Scribbulus Writing Instruments for our stationary supplies.

I wasn’t too happy withe the whole quill and parchment thing. I had a bunch of muggle notebooks and pencils at home that I was going to bring to take my notes in. The idea of using loose parchment for class notes seemed terribly unorganized to me.

After picking up our stationary, we stopped at the trunk shop where Lily and I picked out a pair of basic black trunks. Severus would be using his mother’s old one.

With everything else out of the way, we finally went to Ollivanders to get our wands.

Richard eyed the peeling gold letters of the sign proclaiming Ollivanders to be fine makers of wands since 382 B.C. “Is... this really the best place?” he asked skeptically.

“The shop may look shabby, but you won’t find finer wands in England.” Auntie replied and opened the door for us.

Fitting all seven of us into the narrow shop was tight, but we managed to do so just as Ollivander appeared from the back.

“Ah, Eileen Prince. Ebony and phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches. Quite swishy, if I remember correctly?” he said by way of greeting.

“That is correct.” Auntie agreed with a small smile.

Ollivander’s eyes slid over to Severus. “And this must be your son? Yes, I see the resemblance. And your companions are a muggleborn family I take it?”

“Yes, this is my son, Severus, and our neighbours, the Evans family. Pansy and Lily here are the witches of the family.” she gestured to Lily and me.

“Ah! The two of you must be quite excited, hm? Now, who would like to go first?”

After a small debate, Lily won the privilege of going first. I watched in fascination as a measuring tape floated up around her and began measuring everything from her height to the diameter of her irises.

“Hm... one moment please. I have a few ideas...” Ollivander murmured and went off around the small shop, grabbing and summoning boxes seemingly at random.

By the time he returned, Lily was looking a bit awkward as the tape measure was measuring the size of her earlobes. The wandmaker dismissed it with a wave, and pulled out a wand from one of the boxes he had retrieved.

He handed it to my twin, but quickly snatched it from her hand when it made a sizzling noise, muttering “no, not at all...” He repeated this behaviour with four other wands, though some he took longer to take back than others. Finally, he gave her the sixth wand, which emitted a round of gorgeous pink sparks.

“Ah yes! A Perfect match!” He crowed in victory. “Willow, ten and a quarter inches with a phoenix feather core. Slightly springy.”

Lily beamed and clutched her new wand tightly. “I did it!” she squealed. “Mum, dad, Tuney! I’m a real witch!”

“Congratulations, Lily.” Petunia said with a small smile and pulled her in for a hug.

With Lily’s wand out of the way, I let Severus go next. The process of matching him with his wand was similar to Lily’s, though he went through over a dozen wands, finally finding his partner in a twelve inch ebony wand with a dragon heartstring core.

And then it was my turn. The tape measure flew around me as Ollivander puttered around his shop grabbing wands, and I sneezed when it measured my nostrils.

The first wand Ollivander placed in my hand felt _cold-and-dead-and-wrong_ _ **wrongWRONG.**_ I shuddered at the feeling at he quickly took it from me. It felt worse than the wand I’d been practising with at Auntie’s. “Most certainly not!”

The next wand, fortunately, did not give off as bad a vibe as the first, but it still felt wrong.

On and on it went, Ollivander handing me wands and snatching them back just as quickly. Some felt just as bad, if not worse, than the first, while some didn’t induce a sense of wrongness at all, but none of them felt right. Several times he had to go back and grab more wands to try, and each time he did so he seemed more and more gleeful.

“Tricky customer, eh?” He chuckled at one point, rubbing his hands together. I must have tried over thirty wands by then. “Haven’t had one this tricky in years.”

By that point, Richard and Eileen paid for Lily’s and Severus’ wands and left to get ice cream, leaving just Lizzie and I in the small, dusty shop. Two other families came and left after waiting for twenty minutes. They probably planned to do some other shopping instead of waiting around for me to find a wand.

“You certainly are an interesting young witch, Miss Evans.” he said to me. “It’s not often I get a customer your age that’s so difficult.”

“My age?” I repeated in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“When pairing a wand with a witch or wizard, it is easier for children to find matches than adults.” he explained absently, shoving yet another wand in my hand. “Of course, you’re trickier than most adults...”

“Why?”

“Why are you trickier than most adults? I couldn’t say—”

“No, why is it easier to match kids?” I clarified.

“Ah. It’s quite simple, actually. Wands have to match their owner’s personality and temperament. Children tend to be less developed and fixed in those areas, so wands are less picky and less likely to find something in their partner they don’t like.”

“You speak like the wands are sentient.” I frowned.

“Not in the way you or I are, perhaps. But they are in their own way.” Ollivander mirrored my frown after yet another wand failed to match with me. “Hm... As I said, you are an unusual witch, so perhaps you need an unusual wand... Just a moment...”

I watched the eccentric man disappear into the very back of the shop, where I could hear him rummaging around.

I glanced at Lizzie and mouthed an apology, but she just shook her head and smiled.

When the wand maker emerged some minutes later, he was covered in dust and carrying three boxes.

“Some of my more unusual combinations—I’ve made a couple others like these, but they don’t sell very often, so I don’t often make them anymore... Let’s try this one—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.”

That... sounded like Harry Potter’s wand, I thought with trepidation.

He held out the wand, but I was hesitant to take it. Fortunately, especially since it felt even more wrong than any other wand I’d tried so far, once I did he removed it from my grasp just as quickly as he did the others.

“No, not at all...” he muttered, pulling out the next wand. “How about this? Yew and unicorn tail hair—a rather volatile pair, but perhaps—”

As soon as he placed it in my hand I knew it was the one. A warmth spread from my fingertips and through my arm. I gave it a little wave and bright blue sparks flew from the tip like miniature fireworks. I never wanted to let it go.

“Bravo! Bravo!” Ollivander clapped. “A perfect match, I must say. Fourteen inches, unyielding. I remember the unicorn quite well, you know. Quite the young thing, still had her golden coat. I’d just collected a couple hairs from her mother and she insisted on giving me one as well!”

“Finally!” Lizzie chuckled, pulling the golden coins from her pocket to pay for my new wand. “How many wands was that?”

“Eighty three.” Ollivander answered, surprising me. I didn’t think he was keeping count, but considering just _whom_ we’re talking about, I really shouldn’t have been. “That will be seven galleons, please. Thank you.”

Lizzie thanked him for his time (which amounted to nearly two hours), and I nodded along in agreement. With that, Ollivander bid us farewell and ushered us out of the shop.

Just as the door shut behind me, my ears picked up Ollivander muttering to himself like he did throughout the wand matching process, but the words I was able to catch this time sent a shiver down my spine.

“...interesting witch, certainly... wonder... another one?”

-x-

“Pansy, Lily.” Petunia said a few days after our trip to Diagon Alley.

“Yeah?” Lily said, looking up from painting her nails and I “hmm’ed”, but didn’t move from where I lay on the floor.

It was another sweltering summer day, and once again the three of us had sought refuge in the basement. We were once again sprawled out on the cool tile, though Lizzie and Richard had confiscated all the board games because we kept accusing each other of cheating and fighting. So instead we each did our own thing. Today I was reading my transfiguration book and hoping for answers, Lily was painting her nails with scarlet polish, and Petunia was trying to compose her own song.

“I was just thinking... Remember that professor that brought your letters?” Petunia asked.

“Professor Rosier?” I said. “What about him?”

“Do either of you remember his first name?”

Lily scrunched up her nose, but shook her head after a moment.

“Uh... Artemis, wasn’t it?” I said hesitantly, my face pulled into an uncertain grimace.

“That’s what I thought.” Petunia nodded, and then _giggled._

“What?” I said, pushing myself up onto my elbows in surprise. “What’s so funny?”

“In Greek mythology, Artemis is the _goddess_ of the hunt.” Petunia said through giggles. “It’s a _girl’s_ name.”

At that, Lily broke into giggles as well, but I just dropped back onto the floor with a small “huh.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that Artemis was a feminine name. Probably because in my last life I read _Artemis Fowl_ and watched _Sailor Moon_ , which both contained male characters named Artemis. To be honest, my memories of my first childhood were getting kind of fuzzy, but I was pretty sure back then I didn’t learn the name came from the goddess until long after I’d read and watched those series.

“I feel kind of bad for him.” Petunia continued. “But at least he’s really cute!”

“P-Petunia!” I spluttered in surprise.

“What? I’m almost fourteen! I notice these things!” she huffed.

And with that, I finally joined in with my sisters’ laughter.

It was good to laugh with them, and I etched the moment as firmly in my memory as I could, knowing that after Lily and I went to Hogwarts, times like these would start to dwindle away.

I was going to miss Petunia.

-x-

There were only a few weeks left before Lily and I left for Hogwarts, and Lizzie and Richard were getting more weepy by the day. They were constantly gushing about how proud they were of us one minute, and then the next they were wiping tears and going on about how much they would miss us.

It was actually rather annoying, and I could see it was making Petunia feel jealous and left out. It made me feel guilty, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Best I could think to do was keep quiet and ignore the adults as much as possible, while trying to spend as much time with Petunia as I could.

We decided she should wait to talk to them about auditioning for the Royal Ballet School until after Lily and I left, because they were so focused on the two of us at the moment. I made Petunia promise to write me about how it went in detail, and told her that she’ll have to tell me all about the school when she gets in.

And then, finally, it was September 1st, 1971.

-o-

End Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:** In a game I played (Tales of Symphonia) unicorns were a symbol of death and rebirth, because whenever one died another was born. This stayed with me over the years, and is the reason I decided Pansy’s wand core would be unicorn tail hair. Her wood is yew for it’s connection to death and life.
> 
> There are several deviations from canon portrayals, and I assure you this isn’t just me being contrary. There is a valid explanation for why this is.
> 
> I have a sketch of the female uniform that I will post on AO3 after the sorting ceremony.
> 
> Next chapter they go to Hogwarts.
> 
>  **Important Changes:** none, really. I mostly edited and copy/pasted this chapter instead of rewriting it, so there might be more mistakes and tense issues that I missed correcting. This concludes the old material.
> 
> This ends the rewritten material. Anything from here on is new content.
> 
> I did some editing of the previous chapters to fix mistakes/typos. Added some unimportant details.


	6. II:I

A Black Flower

Part II

I

-o-

After bidding our families goodbye, Severus, Lily and I stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, hauling our trunks behind us. We headed through the train cars in search of an empty compartment. We arrived fairly early, so we were lucky enough to find one without traversing the whole train.

The compartment we settled in was in a train car half ways down. As Lily and Severus got comfortable in their seats, I levitated our trunks to the overhead storage and joined my companions once they were secured.

Lily frowned at me. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Oh, well. I’ve been doing it for years without a wand, so it was easy.” I answered. It was that or tell her Auntie had me and Severus studying ahead and practising most of the first year spells over the last year, and I felt like that wouldn’t go over well with her.

“You have? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked, her eyes wide. She sounded hurt that I kept it a secret from her.

I bit my lip and shrugged helplessly. “I mean...” I looked at Severus for help, but he shook his head minutely and pulled out a book. I was on my own. “At first I didn’t want anyone to know, because I was worried you would think I was... a freak, or touched by the devil or something.” I said, thanking the books for the excuse. “And then I met Severus and found out it _had_ to be kept a secret. I didn’t know you were a witch too, or I would have told you.”

I didn’t even feel guilty about my lie.

“Whatever.” Lily huffed, not placated in the least. She crossed her arms and stared out the window. We hadn’t left the station yet and the platform was on the other side of the train so there wasn’t much to see. I shrugged at Severus and copied his earlier action, pulling a book out of my backpack to read. The three of us sat in a somewhat awkward silence until the train started moving.

As if startled out of her thoughts by the train car jerking into motion, Lily stood up.

“Well,” she announced. “You two are being boring, so I’m going to go make friends.”

“Kay,” I acknowledged, not even looking up from my charms book.

Severus meanwhile, didn’t seem to notice anything until the compartment door slammed shut behind her. “Where did your sister go?”

“To make her own friends.” I answered, setting my book aside. “Apparently we’re not cool enough for her. Or something.”

“Oh, good.” he smirked, closing his own book. “So she won’t be coming back, then.”

“Sev!” I admonished, swatting at him with my book. “That’s my sister you’re talking about, here!”

“So?” he shrugged. “It’s not like she likes me, either.”

I sighed and let it go. Even after all these years, it blew my mind that he and Lily didn’t get along.

Before our conversation could continue onto new topics, the compartment door slammed open again, revealing two boys. Their robes were lined with white, just like our own.

“Mind if we sit here?” The short, bespectacled one asked.

I exchanged a glance with Severus, and we nodded. There was no harm in trying to make more friends.

“Great,” the short one said, striding into the compartment. He and the other boy struggled to get their trunks stowed, but I didn’t offer any help.

“What’s your names?” the other boy asked after they settled.

I raised my eyebrows, unamused. “Perhaps you should introduce yourself first.”

“Oh, right. The name’s Sirius Black. How do you do?” he said with a grin.

It took everything I had in me not to recoil.

“Blimey, you never said your last name was Black!” the short one exclaimed.

Black puffed up. “That a problem?”

“Nah, mate. Just surprised. You seem alright, even for a Black. My name’s James Potter, by the way.”

Of course it was.

“Pansy Evans, and this is Severus Snape.”

“Haven’t heard the names Evans or Snape before,” Black commented. “You muggleborns?”

“That a problem?” Potter demanded, echoing Black’s earlier words.

“Course not. Doesn’t matter, I was just wondering.”

“I’m a half-blood.” Severus interjected, then changed the topic. “What house do you want to be sorted into?”

Potter grinned and mimed holding up a sword. “Gryffindor! Where dwell the brave of heart! Just like my dad!”

“I’m hoping to break the family tradition and make it into Gryffindor myself.” Black said.

“Guess you’re okay after all, mate.” Potter grinned and patted Black on the back. “What about you two?”

I knew Severus well enough to tell he was holding back a sneer. “I’m hoping for Slytherin, like my mum was.”

Potter wrinkled his nose. “Why would you want to be a Slytherin?”

Black nodded in agreement.

“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” I asked defensively.

“Nothing, if you’re a blood purist.” Black snorted. “Any decent folk know to stay away. You might want to rethink your acquaintance with that one, Evans. Sounds like he’s up to no good. I would know, my family has been in that house for generations, and they’re all complete wankers.”

“Excuse me? Severus and I have been friends for years. I won’t tolerate you speaking about him like that.”

“Merlin’s beard, calm down. Just trying to give some friendly advice.”

“Well you can take your friendly advice and shove it, Black.” I growled. “In fact, you can take your trunks and shove off, yourselves.”

“I think we will!” Potter raised his head defiantly. “We don’t want to be stuck in a compartment with a pair of Slytherins. Come on, Sirius.”

I pulled my wand from my sleeve and levitated their trunks down none too gently. They landed on the floor with a heavy thud. “Hurry up then.”

With one last sneer at us, they grabbed their trunks and left, slamming the compartment door once more.

“The next time someone asks to come in we say no.” Severus said.

I nodded in agreement.

-x-

It was another few hours before we were interrupted again, this time by the trolley witch selling sweets. Severus and I both politely declined, as we had brought plenty of snacks of our own and wanted to save plenty of room for the feast.

We passed the time reading and speculating about Hogwarts.

“What house do you think you’ll be in, Pansy?” Severus asked. “You never got the chance to say, earlier.”

Despite the years of our acquaintance, it had never really come up. It was a bit surprising, since I could vaguely recall he and Lily discussing it in the books before they were sorted. Or perhaps that was also done on the express? The exact details escaped me.

“Not sure,” I shrugged. “Not Gryffindor, though.”

Severus snorted. “Definitely not. I hope you’re in Slytherin with me, but I could easily see you in Ravenclaw, too.”

“I guess we’ll see. But we’ll stay friends no matter which houses we end up in, right?”

“Of course!” Severus said, wide-eyed. “Why wouldn’t we? You’re my best friend.”

I smiled at him, pleased, then changed the subject. “How do you think they sort us?”

According to Auntie it was a tradition of sorts to keep the method of sorting secret from children. Even most history books didn’t go into detail about just how it was done.

“I don’t know. Mum said there’s a ceremony, but she didn’t say anything else.”

I smirked. “It’s probably something stupid, like putting on a ratty old hat.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be ridiculous.” he broke into an excited grin. “I bet it’s something cool, like there’s a circle we step into and then it glows the colour of the house we belong in.”

“How much do you want to bet?”

Severus recoiled. “I didn’t mean that seriously! I’m not betting on it!”

I pouted. “Oh well. What house do you think Lily will be in?”

“Gryffindor,” he answered easily.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like Gryffindors.” I accused.

“Maybe. Am I wrong, though?”

“You’re terrible—”

Our conversation was interrupted by the compartment door opening yet again. This time it was Lily with two other girls.

“Hi Pansy, Severus. I’m just grabbing my bag.” she said, stepping into the compartment. “I forgot it earlier.”

“Kay. Who are your friends?” I asked.

“I’m Mary MacDonald.” The tall brunette said.

“Alice Blishwick.” The stout blonde smiled kindly.

“I’m Lily’s twin, Pansy, and this is my friend, Severus Snape. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too.” the girls mumbled.

Lily grabbed her bag from where it had fallen to floor. It was probably knocked down by Potter and Black. “Well, I’ll see you later.” she said to Severus and me, then turned to her new friends. “Let’s go back to our compartment.”

With their departure, Severus and I returned to our conversation.

-x-

It was dark by the time the  train pulled into Hogsmeade station. An announcement played throughout the train instructing us to leave our trunks  and pets on the train and disembark in an orderly fashion.

Most students seemed to rush out of their compartments, but Severus and I waited until the crowd in the corridors thinned and then made our way onto the platform. There was a man standing on a bench holding a lantern.

“First years! First years over here!” he called.

We crowded around him with all the other first years. I couldn’t help but wonder who he was. In the books this was Hagrid’s job, but this man was much too small to be a half-giant.

We waited around until the train was empty  of students and the upper years had already left the station. The man beckoned us to form a line and follow him.  He led us out of the station onto a well beaten path and walked down hill towards the edge of a river, where dozens of boats rested on the  docks. The man jumped into  the boat at the furthest end of the dock.

“Climb in, everyone! No more than four to a boat!” he yelled.

Severus and I wasted no time in claiming a boat for ourselves. We sat in silence as the other boats filled up until a small blonde girl came up to us.

“May I join you?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“Sure.” I agreed.

“Thank you. My name is Pandora Croaker. Please, call me Pandora. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Severus and I introduced ourselves, but before we could continue making conversation the boats started moving. Thrown off by the sudden movement, I grabbed the edges of the boat to steady myself.

“Onward!” the man yelled. His boat had taken point, leading us down the tree-lined river.

We followed the river as it flowed into what must have been the Black Lake.  I had a feeling the river was man, or rather, magic-made for the purpose of taking first years from Hogsmeade station to Hogwarts. We all sat in silent awe as the imposing castle came into view.

It was gorgeous against the clear night sky. Light escaped the many windows, illuminating the castle from within. It almost seemed to glow.

“It’s gorgeous...” I whispered.

“Isn’t it?” Pandora agreed. She sounded equally awed.

Severus just nodded dumbly.

My awe at the castle left me in a daze. I could hardly tell you what happened from then until we were led to a chamber to wait for the sorting to begin. I vaguely recalled docking and climbing a wide stone staircase until we came to a set of huge wooden doors.

The chamber was large, but plain. There were no portraits, and the only decor were the candles floating overhead, providing light. Across from the doors we entered through there was another set of doors which likely led to the great hall.

There were more first years than I had imagined. According to JKR, there were only forty students in Harry’s year, but there must have been over a hundred here. The sorting would be taking much longer than I anticipated.

We spent a good thirty minutes waiting. During this time Severus and I learned Pandora was hoping for Ravenclaw, as her family had been sorted there for generations.

Other students broke off into groups and had quiet conversations, some excited, some more nervous. About half the students stood around awkwardly. They probably hadn’t made any friends yet.

A witch in emerald robes joined us, and called us to attention.

“My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall,” she said, and I did a double take. “I am the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts. The sorting will begin shortly, but first, I will call your name and you will form a single line in alphabetical order...”

It was hard to believe this witch was Professor McGonagall. Not only did she look nothing like Maggie Smith, but she was _young._ She looked to be in her early thirties. Sure, this was twenty years before canon, but still...

She called my name, and I fell in line behind Lily, my thoughts racing.

From what I remembered of canon, she was younger than Voldemort by several years. They weren’t at Hogwarts at the same time. So since Voldemort died when he was like, seventy, that put McGonagall in her fifties and sixties over the course of the books... so she was in her mid-to-late thirties right now. According to Auntie, witches and wizards aged on par with muggles until they were about twenty-five, and then their aging slowed dramatically. She wasn’t sure why besides “magic,” but wizards and witches could live twice as long as muggles, so it made sense that they would age differently...

So McGonagall’s appearance made perfect sense once I thought about it. It was just shocking. My mental image of her was of a stern, aging woman. She still had a stern demeanour, but she was certainly far from aging.

By the time my thoughts returned to present events, everyone was in line and she was explaining how the sorting would proceed.

“...we enter you will stay in place until your name is called to be sorted. Once you have been sorted you will join your house table and...”

I tuned her out again, not particularly interested. I wasn’t first in line, I could watch the others and figure it out.

She concluded her speech shortly thereafter. She turned on her heel and opened the large wooden doors with a gentle tap of her wand. They opened slowly, revealing the great hall.

We appeared to be entering from the side, near the dais the staff table sat on. There was a slightly lower platform directly in front of it, where the Sorting Hat stood on a stool. McGonagall briskly walked to the lower platform, the list of students rolled up in her hand, and stood to the side of the stool.

The first student in line stopped just before the steps to the lower platform.

With everyone in place, the Sorting Hat opened it’s brim and began to sing.

I wasn’t particularly interested in the song, so I ignored it and admired the Great Hall. The ceiling overhead was indeed enchanted to show the night sky, and the room was illuminated by what had to be hundreds of floating candles and torches. The tables in the room were longer and wider than I’d imagined, with room for the hundreds of students at each table without being crowded. The Slytherin table was on the far right, the Gryffindor table was on the far left, with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables between them.

The staff table was comparatively smaller, but there were far more people sitting at it than I’d been prepared for. A man with a long, greying beard and half-moon glasses who must have been Dumbledore sat in the centre, an empty chair to his side. The rest of the table was filled out with faces I did not recognize. The exceptions were a small man who must have been Professor Flitwick and the man who brought me my letter, Professor Rosier.

The Hat finished its song to a round of applause, and McGonagall unrolled the parchment in her hands and began calling names.

The first student stumbled nervously up to the stool, and the hat called out “Hufflepuff!” after a moment on his head. The white accents on his robe burst into colour, turning a bright yellow to match his house while the colour of the crest drained from all but the bottom left quadrant.

I watched as a dozen and some students were sorted ahead of me. The only names of note were Black, who went to Gryffindor as expected, and Lily, who joined him. Oh, and Pandora, who made it into Ravenclaw like she hoped.

“Evans, Pansy!” McGonagall called after my sister joined the table decorated in red and gold.

I walked to the stool with my head held high, refusing to betray just how anxious I felt. As soon as I was seated, McGonagall dropped the Hat on my head.

This was perfectly sanitary, I reassured myself as it fell over my eyes. Magic was involved. I didn’t need to worry about getting lice or anything...

“Oh-ho! Another one of you, hm? How interesting!” A little voice said in my ear. I rolled my eyes. You would think the hat had never seen twins before.

The hat chuckled, as if it heard my thoughts.

“I certainly did! Now, where to put you... You’re not particularly brave, and hold no respect for the quality... you’ve got a bit of loyalty in you, but not particularly hardworking unless you enjoy what you’re doing... A great mind, indeed, with a passion for learning, so Ravenclaw is certainly a possibility.

“But more than that, you’re a liar, aren’t you?” It crooned in my ear, its voice full of glee. I shifted on the stool. The Hat wasn’t wrong. “You manipulate people and situations to your own end. You study because you enjoy it, yes, but you want to be the best. You have things you want to accomplish, dreams, _ambitions_... Yes, I think Salazar would make an exception for you... Good luck in...

“SLYTHERIN!” the Hat bellowed. My robes adopted green accents the moment the word was out of its brim, and the crest on my breast changed to match my sorting. “Oh, and don’t worry, I won’t share your secrets.” It assured me.

I looked up at McGonagall as she removed the Hat. Her eyebrows were raised, but she quickly schooled her expression.

I took a seat at the end of the Slytherin table. A few of the older students nodded to me, but no one said anything, just returned their attention to the sorting. I followed suit.

Lupin, Pettigrew, and Potter joined my sister in Gryffindor as expected, and Severus joined me at the Slytherin table. We exchanged a quiet smile, and watched the last of the students be sorted.

Overall, Gryffindor seemed to receive the most students by a large margin, with either Hufflepuff or Slytherin coming in second, and Ravenclaw getting the fewest.

McGonagall replaced the hat on the stool and then took her place at the head table beside Dumbledore.

He gave a short speech, and then dinner appeared before us on the table.

Without a word, I helped myself to a serving each of potatoes, carrots, and roast chicken.

“We made it,” Severus said as he loaded his own plate. “We’re in Slytherin together.”

I smiled at him. “Yes, this is going to be great.”

-x-

It was not great, I later learned.

After dinner we were led down to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons by the prefects. They took us out to the entrance hall and then through a small door and down winding stone steps that led deep into a dungeon corridor.

The entrance itself wasn’t marked by a portrait or anything. It was just a blank space of wall, exactly half ways between two tapestries several metres away on either side.

The prefects gave a quick overview of how the entrance worked and the rules and expectations. Don’t tell non-Slytherins where the common room is because no one else has been there in centuries (what about professors, I wondered?), the password changes every fortnight, passwords are on the noticeboard, etc.

With that out of the way, they ordered us to gather in the common room in the morning before breakfast, and then led us to our dorms.

The common room was much as it was described in the books, dark wood, leather sofas, a large fireplace and elaborate mantle, greenish lighting. Decorations included skulls, tapestries depicting famous Slytherins, dark green rugs, and carved stone pillars. There were windows into the Black Lake, but there wasn’t much movement. It was all very gothic, and I loved the aesthetic.

At the end of the room there were two hallways off to the sides. Us girls were led down the one on the right by the female prefect. The corridor was lined with thick, arched wooden doors. Each bore a placard with a number and names on it.

Half way down the hall the prefect stopped. I checked the doors and saw the number 1 on the two nearest doors.

“These will be your dorms for the next seven years. Check for your name. There will be no room changes except under extenuating circumstances. If you aren’t placed with your friends or don’t like your roommates then tough, that does not count as an extenuating circumstance.” she said. “My name is Alanna Foster. If you need me, my room is at the end of the hall. Don’t disturb me unless it’s important. I don’t have time to waste on petty disputes and my roommates don’t want to be disturbed by homesick firsties, either.”

With her speech finished, Foster turned and left us to our own devices.

There were two rooms marked for first years, the first had four names listed and the other had five. I had the misfortune of finding my name on the latter. My roommates would be Anastasia Malfoy, Julianne Burke, Beatrice Gamp, and Morgana Wilkes.

I was the first to enter the dorm. It was larger than I expected, more wide than long. On the far right side there was a door that presumably led to a bathroom. There was a curtained bed in each corner of the room and a fifth in the middle of the far wall. By each bed was a dark wooden desk and chair. Above the desk there was a small stone bookshelf built into the wall. Next to the desk was an empty laundry bin and a small matching wardrobe. Our trunks were laid out at the ends of the beds. Mine appeared to be the one in the middle.

I approached my bed and pushed back the curtain. The bed was covered with a soft, dark green quilt over layers of blankets. There were two pillows, one fluffy and one firm. Above the bed there was a little nook to place odds and ends, like our wands or glasses while we slept. The only item that already occupied the space was an old fashioned looking alarm clock—or perhaps not so old fashioned, it was only 1971.

I wasn’t too happy to have to share space with four other girls for the entire school year, but it was better than sharing with all eight of the other Slytherin girls. The space itself was nice at least, and once I unpacked it could feel like home.

Unpacking could wait though. The alarm clock said it was already past nine in the evening. It had been a long day and I was ready for bed, so I opened my trunk and pulled out my nightgown and toiletries to get ready to sleep.

Around me, my roommates started settling in.

The door to the right didn’t lead directly to the bathroom as I assumed, instead it led to another small corridor which branched off into a longer one. Like the one leading to the dorm, there were doors with names and numbers. Fortunately, the door corresponding to my dorm wasn’t far.

The bathroom was larger than I expected. One wall was lined with a mirror and five sinks, the back had cubicles with toilets, and a third wall was lined with rather spacious shower stalls. There was a cubby next to each stall, full of dark green towels in various sizes, with room remaining for students to fill in ourselves.

Unlike the dorm and common room, which had an old, gothic vibe, the bathroom was more modern. The floor was tiled and the vanity around the sinks was plain. The walls and shower stalls matched the flooring.

I decided to shower in the morning, and settled for washing my face and brushing my teeth for the night. When I exited the bathroom, the other girls were all sitting together in one corner.

“So,” The blonde girl, probably Malfoy, said. She was sitting on the desk and swung her crossed ankles back and forth. “I haven’t heard the name Evans before. It’s not a very magical name, is it?”

I rolled my eyes, seeing where this was going. “Sure it is.” I replied.

“Oh?” She said. “Tell me about it.”

“Well I’m a witch and my name is Evans, so it’s a magical name.” I smiled sweetly at her.

The two girls on the bed sneered, and the one sitting on the chair looked like she wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. Malfoy crossed her arms. “Don’t be smart with me, _Evans._ ”

“Oh, my apologies, I’ll try to keep it down to your level.”

“I suppose with how evasive you’re being it’s pretty obvious. You _are_ a half-blood.” she sniffed. “I can’t believe they’d force me, a _Malfoy,_ to share a room with such filth.”

Briefly I considered agreeing with her, saying I was a half-blood. If Lily weren’t around I would have. It would make things easier—not easy, as my roommates obviously extended their bigotry to half-bloods, but not as bad as being a muggleborn. Except Lily was here and so it was pointless. I could say I was a half-blood now, but it would inevitably come out as a lie because of my sister. She would never play along, and she had undoubtedly already told plenty of people she was a muggleborn. Lying about my blood status now would get me nowhere in the long run and would just make me look ashamed of my heritage. It would seem like a weak point.

So I squared my shoulders and pasted on a wide, unfriendly smile.

“Don’t be silly,” I said, getting up in Malfoy’s personal space. “I’m not a half-blood. I’m a _muggleborn_.”

Malfoy reared back as if I’d spit at her, and the other girls scrambled away as well, like they thought my blood status was contagious. “You’re a _mudblood_?” she hissed. “How did filth like you end up in Slytherin?”

I shrugged. “Well I put on this talking hat and it yelled ‘Slytherin!’ to the whole room...”

Malfoy looked at me in disgust, like I was dung on the bottom of her boots. I didn’t care.

I leaned in further and bared my teeth at her in a mockery of a smile one last time. She recoiled further, and I smirked as I walked away from her, to my own bed.

I closed my curtains, changed into my pyjamas, and snuggled in for the night.

I didn’t let the whispers of my roommates keep me awake.

-x-

The next morning I woke up early. The alarm clock said it was just after six in the morning. I had a little under two hours until I needed to be in the common room for the morning meeting. That gave me plenty of time to take a nice, long shower and relax before starting the day properly.

I collected my clothes for the day from my trunk and noticed that all my uniforms were now accented with green instead of white.

The other girls must have unpacked while I slept last night because where before the bathroom had been empty of personal belongings, now four of the sinks were lined personal care items, as were four of the cubbies.

The first cubby was unclaimed, so that was where I stowed my belongings.

The shower stall was larger than I expected, and there was plenty of room to stretch out. I’d brought my own soap and shampoo, but there were dispensers on the wall, so I didn’t need to use them.

The water pressure was divine, and the temperature just right. I cleaned myself quickly, and then just settled in to relax and enjoy the hot water.

I couldn’t say how long I stayed in there, but it must have been at least forty-five minutes, yet the water temperature never changed. I had a feeling it would never run cold. The wonders of magic. Eventually I knew I had to get out and get ready for the day, so I turned off the water and reached for a towel and my clothes.

I groped around fruitlessly for a bit before I decided to risk coming out of the stall completely to search for my stuff. I must have pushed it back further into the cubby than I thought.

But my cubby was empty. The towels that had been in it previously were gone and so were my clothes. Panicked, I checked the other cubbies, but they were empty of towels as well.

I took a deep breath and retreated back into the shower stall, trying to keep calm. I lowered myself to the floor and curled up to try and get some sense of modesty.

It seems I had underestimated my roommates.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what happened, they must have planned it the night before while I slept. I tried to think back to my shower and if I had heard anyone come in, but the water was loud, so if they were quiet I wouldn’t have.

I left my wand in the nook above my bed, not that it would do me much good. I didn’t know how to transfigure something to cover up with. I suppose it was best, those little brats would have stolen it with my uniform if I left it laying out.

I contemplated making a run back to my dorm, but I wasn’t comfortable running through the hall so exposed. If the bathroom were directly attached to the dorm I would have sucked it up and risked my roommates seeing me, but... if I ran out now it would be more than just my roommates. It would be every girl in Slytherin.

Maybe I could just wait it out until someone came looking for me. Surely someone would notice I was missing eventually. Or just until the hall cleared out and I could run back to my room... But it was possible that wouldn’t happen for awhile. From what I remembered of the books there were free periods, so it was possible students who didn’t have classes would be coming through the hallway. No, running back to my room was out. I didn’t want to risk it at all.

With the water off, I could hear movement outside of the bathroom, probably other students going back and forth as they got ready for the first day of classes. I considered sticking my head out and asking for help, but who was to say they _would_ help? I was a mudblood, my roommates had probably made sure everyone knew that, so who would stop to help? At best they would laugh, but it was likely they would make things worse.

So I waited. I waited, and I got angry.

How dare they? Sure, I was a bit aggressive with them last night, but to go this far? This was... this was just cruel. My eyes burned with furious tears, and I tried to blink them away.

I felt humiliated, exposed.

I would get back at them for this.

There was no clock, so I had no way of knowing how much time passed as I waited. I started to shiver, so I turned on the shower to let the hot water warm me. I had to do that several times.

Finally, someone knocked on the door. “Pansy Evans? Are you in here?”

I recognized the voice of the female prefect from last night. Foster, I thought her name was. Hopefully she was here to help.

“Yes. In here.”

“It’s time for lunch, what are you doing in there? You’ve missed your morning classes.” she said.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly before replying. “Someone stole my clothes. And all the towels.”

I heard her draw in a sharp breath. “Can I come in?”

“I guess.”

The door opened and shut tight behind her. “Which stall are you in? I’ll give you my over robe to cover up with and we can go back to your dorm together.”

“The first one,” I said, opening it up just enough to stick my hand out.

I took the robe from her and wrapped it around myself, tightening the strings to close it. It was much too large, but it would do until I got back to my dorm.

Once I was decent, I came out of the stall. The prefect’s expression was tight. She seemed angry, whether at what happened to me or because she had to help a mudblood I wasn’t sure.

Unfortunately, the ordeal wasn’t over. When we entered my dorm we were greeted with the scent of smoke and a burnt trunk. If I thought Foster looked angry before, she was downright mutinous now.

We checked, but nothing in my trunk of was salvageable except my cauldron, but even that was charred.

“Wait here. I’ll bring you something proper to wear, then talk to our head of house.” she said in an eerily calm voice, then left.

While I waited for her to return I checked my bed, and fortunately my wand was right where I left it.

Small mercies.

-x-

An hour later I was wearing resized robes and sitting in the headmaster’s office. Joining me were my roommates, Foster, Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn.

I’d already shared my side of the story with my head of house and the headmaster, and now my roommates were sharing theirs. They seemed unrepentant in their actions, and seemed to think it was just a harmless prank.

It infuriated me. They didn’t just humiliate me, they destroyed everything I had! My books, my clothes, my supplies... It was lucky that I hadn’t packed anything of sentimental value! And they thought it was a joke? They thought it was funny?

The professors at least, did not.

“I am very disappointed in you girls,” Dumbledore said. “I will be flooing your parents shortly, and we’ll discuss your punishment once they arrive. I want you to understand that this is very serious, and you won’t be getting off lightly. There will be consequences to your actions.” Dumbledore turned his attention to me. “Miss Evans, I am sorry this happened to you. Please make a list of everything you lost, and we will make arrangements to get it replaced. For now, please follow Professor Slughorn to his office, and he will sort you out from here.”

I nodded. “Yes, headmaster.”

“If we may use the floo, Albus?” Slughorn inquired. Dumbledore nodded.

“Have you used the floo before, Pansy?” Foster asked me. I shook my head. “Alright, I’ll demonstrate for you...”

-x-

Once in Slughorn’s office, he sat me down, ordered up a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of water for me, and handed me my class schedule.

Slughorn was a large man, but he had a jovial air about him. Based on the books I worried that he wouldn’t take this seriously since I was basically no one, but it appeared he did.

“Don’t worry about what you’ve missed, Miss Evans, we’ll make sure the other professors are aware of the situation,” he assured me. “As Albus said, we’ll get your belongings replaced, but for now I’ll have some house elves put some of the school’s extra robes in your wardrobe, we keep a stock of them for emergencies...” He started digging around in his desk. “You’ll need some parchment, ink and quills for now, I think I have enough around here to last you a couple days. Aha! Here we go.”

He pulled out an unopened sheaf of parchment from the bottom drawer of his desk and grabbed an opened bottle of black ink and a used quill sitting on top. “This should do! If you run out before your things are replaced let me know, but there’s plenty there, my dear girl, I doubt it will be a problem.

“As for your books, your professors will excuse you from any work that requires the textbook or lend you a copy... I will be your potions professor, so don’t worry about needing anything there, I’ll make arrangements... Is there anything I’m forgetting Miss Evans, Miss Foster?”

I stared at him helplessly, feeling overwhelmed. How would I know? I was still processing, I didn’t know what I needed or what he had the power to do.

“Her sleeping arrangements,” Foster said. “It isn’t appropriate to keep her in a dorm with those girls after what they did. She should be moved to the other first year dorm.”

“Quite right!” Slughorn nodded agreeably. “I’ll have the house elves move you into the other dorm, if that’s alright with you?”

“Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it.” I really did. I doubt I would ever be able to sleep in the same room as those other girls again, at least not without absolutely exhausting myself first.

“Not a problem, not a problem.” He smiled. “If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed after you finish eating. You should still have time to make it to most of your defence lesson, which should be starting shortly—you have a double block today. Miss Foster, I trust you can show Miss Evans the way and pass this on to the professor?” he held out a folded up bit a parchment.

“Of course, sir.” The prefect agreed, taking the parchment.

I hurriedly finished my sandwich—egg salad on white bread—and followed Foster out of the office.

“I’ll show you to the defence corridor. Once classes are done you’ll be escorted to the common room by another prefect, and then dinner, okay?” I nodded. “You missed orientation this morning, so I’ll go over it with you tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Look Evans—Pansy. I want you to know that you can come to me for help if anyone in Slytherin gives you trouble, okay? I’m a half-blood. My mom’s a muggle and she’s amazing. I don’t buy into blood purity like most of the house.”

“Thank you.” I repeated. It was good to know I had an ally if things got bad, but I had no intentions of running to her for every little thing.

“Alright, let’s get you to class. Don’t want to make you even later, yeah?”

Foster led me out of the dungeons, narrating about landmarks to help me find my way. We climbed up to the third floor of the Turris Magnus and walked down the Serpentine Corridor, also known as the defence corridor. We stopped outside of room 3A.

Foster knocked on the door and opened it when prompted. “Excuse me, Professor Rosier? I have a message for you, and a late student.”

Rosier walked over to us, took the missive from Foster, and read it. His expression grew cold as he read, but he schooled it into a neutral mask when he looked up.

“Thank you Miss Foster. You’re dismissed.” He turned to me. “Please take a seat Miss Evans, fortunately you’re only a few minutes late.”

I scanned the classroom for an open spot. Judging by the uniforms it was a Slytherin/Hufflepuff class. Movement at the back of the classroom caught my attention, it was Severus, waving at me. He had an open seat beside him.

I quickly made my way over and slid in next to him.

“What happened? Where have you been?” he hissed at me. “I’ve been worried about you!”

“Shh, I’ll explain after class,” I whispered back. “I don’t want to get in trouble for not paying attention.”

Severus nodded.

Throughout the period he kept sending me concerned glances, but I ignored him and dutifully took notes as Professor Rosier went over the rules for the class and expectations.

With that out of the way, he began to lecture.

“Before I can start teaching you to defend yourselves from the dark arts, we must first define them,” he began. “Does anyone know what exactly the dark arts are?”

A few students raised their hands, including me and Severus. He pointed to a boy in the third row.

“Well, it’s bad magic, right? Magic that’s used to hurt people.” the boy answered.

Rosier dipped his head in acknowledgement. “A fairly typical answer, though not technically correct. After all, I can use the levitation charm to drop a weight on someone’s head, crushing their skull, but no one in their right might would consider the levitation charm a dark spell.”

The boy, a Hufflepuff, blushed.

“Does anyone else have any ideas?” Rosier asked again.

Fewer hands rose this time, only two others besides Severus’ and mine.

“In the back there, with the dark hair, Mr...?”

“Snape, sir.” Severus answered. “The theoretical definition of dark magic is magic which requires intent to harm to be cast. The legal definition expands on this to include spells which don’t require intent, but exclusively cause harm.”

“Excellent answer, take a point for Slytherin, Mr. Snape.” Rosier praised. Severus preened a bit in response.

“To expand on Mr. Snape’s answer, dark magic is magic that requires a certain mindset to cast. This mindset is essentially the intent to cause others harm, though it can be more or less specific.” Rosier began to pace at the front of the class. “What it boils down to is that you can try to cast a dark spell all you want, but unless you have the correct mindset it won’t work. For example the knockback jinx—yes, that _is_ technically a dark spell, I will get into that more later on—won’t work unless you want to actually knock back your target. It is a very mild example, and most people don’t truly think they have the intent to harm when they cast it, but their intent when they cast it is technically to harm, if mildly.

“A more extreme example would be the Cruciatus Curse, one of the Unforgivables. To cast the curse you must not just intend to cause the target extreme pain, you must truly desire it, you must find the suffering of your target pleasing.”

Professor Rosier stopped in front of the blackboard at the front of the class and picked up a piece of chalk and began writing.

‘ _Unit 1: Defining the Dark Arts_ ’

From there, he wrote down the formal definition of the dark arts, and then moved onto defining jinxes, hexes, and curses. He gave plenty of examples for each category, and clearly explained why each spell was categorized as it was.

Once we had grasped the differences,  Rosier listed some spells without specifying which category they fell in, and then  had us categorize them as a class.

Before I knew it, the double period was over and he was telling us to pack up.

“I’ll see you all next Tuesday,” he said. “Please finish reading section one point one in the textbook before then. Miss Evans, please stay after class.”

“Of course, professor.” I said and turned to Severus. “Can you put my stuff in your bag? I’ll meet you in the common room and explain.”

“Sure, Pans,” he agreed and dutifully packed away my supplies with his. “I’ll see you later.”

Once the classroom had emptied of the other students the professor led me to his office.

It was larger than I expected,  larger than Slughorn’s . The back wall was hidden behind massive bookshelves. They seemed to be full of books from all sorts of subjects, not just defence. In the centre was a large desk covered with loose paper s —and it was paper, not parchment, to my surprise.

“First of all Miss Evans, let me find you a copy of the textbook to borrow for now,” he said, shifting through the papers on his desk until he uncovered a dog eared copy of the required text. “It’s a bit marked up with my notes, but it’s the only copy I have right now, so I apologize for that.”

“That’s fine, Professor. Thank you very much.” I said, accepting the book from him. “Is that everything?”

Rosier leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. “It’s not actually. Just one more thing...”

“What is it?”

“Does the name ‘Hermione Granger’ mean anything to you?”

-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note Pansy is biased. She didn’t like the marauders in the books, so it transferred over to interactions with them. I’m not trying to arbitrarily bash the marauders. That said, they aren’t going to get along with Pansy for obvious reasons, so if you’re a fan of them prepare yourself for that.
> 
> In canon JKR said there were 40 students in Harry’s year, but 1000 students at Hogwarts. Mathematically it doesn’t add up. Even assuming a low number of students because of the war, there are still far too few in his year for more than 500 students total to be feasible. So I decided classes must be a lot larger.
> 
> This also brings in the issue of how, canonically, there are about 12 teachers at Hogwarts. So I decided to add some more. Basically there are 2-3 per subject, one is the head of the department and teaches 1-2 classes, the others teach 2-3. Since Harry had the same teachers every year, it’s not a matter of Prof A teaches 1-3 years, Prof B teaches 4-5, Prof C teaches 6-7. It must be that each professor STAYS with a certain cohort. So one year they teach years 1,2,3, next they teach 2,3,4, etc. I’ll probably post a side work on AO3 with notes and shit about this sort of thing.
> 
> Another issue I’m working on figuring out is how astronomy classes work. There are too many students for all houses to be together, so they can’t have one class per year group. But there are only 7 nights a week and having classes go too late is ridiculous, and there is only a single astronomy tower. JKR, bless her soul, did not consider logistics and stuff. I can’t help but consider it.
> 
> Differences in Hogwarts architecture can be explained, but I won’t do it yet. Remember that in canon JKR has made mistakes about it, saying the headmaster’s office was on the 2nd floor at one point, then later on the 7th... Official explanation is the castle keeps changing, but dude. How would anyone find anything in that case? A jump of 5 floors is a big deal. I don’t buy it.
> 
> Pandora’s last name is a reference to Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin, which is an amazing fanfic you should read if you haven’t. And yes, she is Luna’s mom.
> 
> Where is Hagrid? Tom Riddle’s premature death means he never got Hagrid expelled. Hagrid graduated Hogwarts and went on to live his best life working on a creature reserve.
> 
> “Salazar would make an exception.” A lot of people go with Slytherin as a blood purist being some horrible historical inaccuracy. But the Sorting Hat, who would know Slytherin first hand, confirmed it. My take is that Slytherin was a sort of exceptional bigot. He would make exceptions for muggleborns who he felt embodied the other qualities he valued and had potential and talent. Thus, there are muggleborns sorted into Slytherin, but it is rare. Many hide it and pretend to be half-bloods.
> 
> Did the girls go overboard with what they did to Pansy? Yes. Is it unrealistic? I don’t think so. Pansy antagonized them that first night. She had every right to stand up for herself, but obviously it just angered the other girls. These are also (mostly) spoiled, racist, rich little girls. They’ve been taught muggleborns are garbage and unworthy of respect. They’ve never met a muggleborn before. They haven’t quite got the memo of what’s going to far and what’s not. I’ve drawn on my own experiences of bullying and the experiences of women I know. Little girls are vicious.
> 
> To be clear, the girls asked about Pansy’s name to determine if she was a “muggle parent” half-blood (ew), a “muggle great grandparent” half-blood (tolerable), or a lower class pureblood whose name they weren’t familiar with.
> 
> I have been fixing up typos/errors in the AO3 version, and will continue to do so. Consider the FFN version a rough draft.
> 
> This is the longest chapter I have ever written, but it was imperative it ended exactly where it did!
> 
> Uniform:  
> 
> 
> Class Schedule:  
>   
> 


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